


My Starlight

by Valkenaar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Arthur Returns, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, In Character, M/M, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, Pg rated in the beggining, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 05, Sexual Content, Slow Build, friends to lover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-07-19 00:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16130009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkenaar/pseuds/Valkenaar
Summary: Merlin has been waiting for the return of his King for far too long.The world around him has changed for both the worse and the better for witches' and wizards' alike, and Merlin is trying his best to keep up with it all.Having to make some major decisions in the fate of the wizarding world itself, Merlin's entire world becomes flipped upside down again by the return of the man he's been waiting, quite literally, forever for.----------This story is center focused on the idea of the Merlin universe eventually merging into the universe the Harry Potter series takes place in, over the passage of time.This story is centered around the events of the Chamber of Secretes but is all from the perspective of Merlin and Arthur. The Harry Potter characters are introduced throughout the story, but they are not it's main focus.I just wanted to make this a little clearer in case the tags were a bit confusing. Hope you enjoy~





	1. The Long Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Also, the image I added is something I drew myself when I first had the idea for the fic.

The evening air is cool and nearly refreshing as it blows idly by the ancient castle that a young looking man with raven locks sat atop of. The sun is just starting to set below the horizon, the sky illuminating in various shades of red, yellow, and pink with a slight midnight blue peaking over them all. Merlin sat facing the west, watching as the darkness of night slowly took over the sky. Killing off the light as it draped over the earth. The man has his legs crossed and his back arched forward as his hands clasped together in front his face and stared absentmindedly at the sky.

Merlin wished this sight moved him. It was objectively beautiful. The most picturesque image any human had the privilege of witnessing and at one point in time Merlin had cared. He used to stare at sunsets with reverence and awe, like a child seeing the world for the first time, especially here where all the technological advancements of society had no bearing or effect on his environment. No electric light to drown out the stars. No metal structures to muddle the naturally beautiful canvas mother nature had provided. Even then, Merlin felt nothing looking at it. He has seen this sunset, this castle, this lake, the trees, and forest a thousand more times than he had any right too. It was unavoidable to feel this way when you have lived as long as he has.

Yet he sat here watching the damnable thing all the same. It is a habit, even a ritual to some degree. Up here, at the highest peak of the Hogwarts castle, was silence. Peace and isolation for a half-maddened centuries-old warlock. He sought refuge up here right before the annual introduction of students to their next year's term, and often times in between when he just couldn’t pretend anymore. Pretend he wasn’t _the_ Merlin, the world’s most powerful sorcerer to ever exist, Merlin the Magician. King Arthur's advisor and mentor, participant of the Round Table itself.

Merlin let out a strained chuckle at the thought. If only people knew what he really was to the King: a servant, a fool, a liar, and above all else a failure. Yes, he was powerful, even more so now, and wise in his own way; but he failed at the very thing he was told he was meant to succeed at. The thing he was born for and he couldn’t even handle that. Watching the life leave Arthur’s eyes that day, feeling as his body grew cold and his limbs fall motionless beside him, had nearly ended Merlin right there. He wished it had. Merlin didn’t know how he had built his sire's pyre. How he even had the strength to lift his body onto that old creaky wooden boat and set the thing ablaze atop the lake.

“ _That damn lake_.” Merlin thought bitterly. He sneered in the very direction of that body of water. He had lost his Freya to it and then Arthur. It was a curse, an omen to taunt and torture the poor old boy until he is driven completely mad. Merlin tucks his hands under his chin, his thoughts slipping darker. Merlin starts to breathe a little harder.

He was the curse. A jinx! Hex! Malediction…

“Stop!” Merlin gasped out to himself. “Stop you old fool. Not again.” He clasped his hands to his head and held it, steadying his rapid breath. It isn’t uncommon for Merlin to lose himself in his thoughts. Whenever he loses his senses he goes to a very dark and treacherous place within his mind. The longer he’s there the harder it is to pull away from. He had lost his mind to that darkness for nearly a century before he miraculously pulled himself back above the cliffside. Since then Merlin tries to keep himself preoccupied and manually stop his mind from falling over the edge again, but it’s hard. It's so hard sometimes.

Merlin stands from his sitting place. Taking this as his sign to rejoin his associates down below. Preparing to greet the new and old students of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. He doesn’t need to wallow in his self-guilt. He promised himself he’d try and get better, and right now he needed the drone of a busy castle and staff to distract him away from it. So with a snap of his fingers as he is walking towards the edge of the roof Merlin’s physical form dissipates away into a black smoke and reappears in a bustling corridor.

Professors were scrambling back and forth from the Great Hall, preparing the food and decorations for the soon to arrive students. Each adorned in their unique robs and formal wears. Even Merlin is dressed for the occasion. He is wearing black slacks and shoes, a dark green vest, and a simple plain black rob, its hood turned down for the moment. Merlin catches a quick glimpse of himself in some stained glass windows down the corridor. He is himself, a little older then he had been in Camelot, and now sporting a short trimmed beard that only helped highlight his sharp cheekbones and thin cheeks; the blue in eyes a little duller than they had been.  

Continuing on Merlin passes through the giant doorway into the Great Hall and one elderly witch, in particular, was having a hard time deciding which illusion spell to cast on the ceiling for this year's first feast. She was tapping the end of her wand frantically as she stares wide-eyed at the vaulting.

“Oh, Professor Emyrs! Good heavens, you startled me.” The witch exclaims when Merlin lightly pats her on the shoulder.

“Forgive me, Claire.” Merlin chuckles. “But you seem lost.”

“Oh, that.” Claire was now whacking her wand softly into the palm of her hand. “I just can’t decide on a charm. The candles are always nice, but a bit contrived; and last year Agatha went with the northern lights of all things!”

“Agatha huh?” Merlin mockingly brushes a finger under his chin. “We can’t have that old crone getting the better of us.”

“Exactly!” Claire said while lightly slapping Merlin’s forearm. “I can’t let her think she’s bested me. Agatha can’t charm her way out of a bag!” Merlin laughs at Claire’s enthusiasm. For an old woman, she still has a lot of zest. “But I can’t decide on anything myself. Be a dear, young man, and help your elder think of something.”  

Merlin wonders idly what would happen if he told Claire he was over fifteen hundred years older than she is. She would most likely just laugh him off as being cute and funny and move on in all honesty. Merlin wasn’t exactly sporting an old form at the moment. Choosing instead to live this century as a young man, barely out of his twenties. Over time, with enough practice and study, Merlin has become proficient at transfiguring as if he was a living polymorph. Maybe he actually is; Merlin was never quite sure. But he is always different. He’d be young for a few decades, then old and feeble the next. Merlin never chose to be a child, however. There is something too odd, too twisted for Merlin to ever think about disguising himself that young. He felt like it is a mockery of childhood itself almost.

Merlin suddenly feels a slight jab in his ribs. He looks down to see Claire staring at him expectantly. Merlin smiles then thought her predicament over. He looks upward toward the ceiling trying to imagine something spectacular there. A thought flickers in his mind for only a second, the image of a sunset, but Merlin shakes it away. Something that still moves him, something...amazing.

“Oh! Claire how about this?” Merlin exclaims, reaching into his robe. He pulls out a black, thin, and long wand from it and holds it firmly in his hand. The wand is light, too light, and if he clutches any harder the wood would snap under his palm because it is a fake. An incredibly convincing fake, but it is nothing more than a stick. A twig Merlin carved from a great black oak in the forbidden woods.

Merlin learned nearly six hundred years ago that wands and he did not agree. Anytime he attempted to use any wand, regardless of its wood, its magical components, the thing would shatter into thousands of tiny splinters at even the simplest spells. His magic was too overbearing for the simple device to harness and so it explodes. He gave up completely when a wand crafted from dragon heartstring fell into the same fate that a dozen if its siblings had suffered. A stick, however, doesn’t channel anything. Merlin simply uses his magic as he always has, and mimics the hand movements and words.     Merlin utters an illusion spell, and the ceiling goes completely dark for a moment. It is black as the void; but then tiny lights start to flicker from it; one after the other, until the entire ceiling is covered in bright starlight. Fog rotates out of the darkness and spins into galaxies. When the spell is complete the room looked like a space observatory. It is a breathtaking recreation of the universe and all its wonders.

“What a splendid job my boy!” Claire gasps. “What a beautiful idea. Let’s see Agatha beat this!” Claire smacks Merlin over the shoulder playfully before prideful strutting over to the said Agatha. Claire motioning her arms upwards as she approaches. Merlin just laughs.

“ _What a goofy old bat_.” Merlin thinks lovingly.

“Please, everyone!” A voice booms across the hall. “May I have your attention?” It is Professor McGonagall. Dressed in her signature green witch’s robes with the matching pointed hat placed rigidly atop her head.

She stands at the top of the stage at the back of the hall, hand raised in the air to make her stand out more to the crowd. When all of the staff turns to her full attention she continues.

“The students’ are now undocking from the boats and will be arriving shortly. I need you all to finalize the preparations and head to your respective posts. Professors, you will join the Headmaster and me at this table for the feast.” She explains. Her arms stretched behind her at the long dining table placed right in the center of the stage.

Usually, that would be it. McGonagall would excuse herself to go help any stragglers finish and then rush off to greet the new students. However, she hovers there for a few more moments before adding.

“Now please listen to me with urgency. What happened last year with Quirinus Quirrell is not to be repeated again this year. We must have due diligence! Our students must feel safe within these castle walls and it is our responsibility to see that they are!” McGonagall says sternly. Merlin hears a few hushed whispers from some of the staff. “Thank you.” With that McGonagall excuses herself from the stage and disappears in the group of witches and wizards.

Merlin stands there a few moments, pondering, before striding back out of the great hall. Heading towards an empty classroom a few corridors away for one last task on his part. As he walks, he couldn’t help but remember the events of last year. The special arrival of “The Boy Who Lived”, the philosophers stone, Quirrell’s deceit, and the return of a certain “Mr. He Who Must Not Be Named.”

Merlin found an accommodating room and threw the door open and shut it firmly behind him. As he enters he realizes he was still clutching his wand. He tosses the thing onto a desk and forces the desks to walls with his magic. He plants himself right in the middle of the floor. Crouching and placing both his hands onto the floor, parallel to each other.

Merlin places yearly barriers around Hogwarts as a precaution against dangerous, powerful, and ancient magic and creatures. Voldemort, Quirrell, his Death Eaters, or even Dumbledore the headmaster are of no worry or concern to Merlin. Should the need arise, he will protect this castle, its inhabitants, and this land, but he needs to be careful.

Merlin fears what the world will be like if he’s ever discovered to still be alive and kicking. His name is famously known to the magical world and the human world outside of it, the great Arthurian legends. A crock of griffon dung written by that old codger Geoffrey of Monmouth that’s been twisted generations through generations into the unrecognizable myth it is now.

Merlin inhales a slow breath and channels into the ancient magic and calls it forth. He feels its warmth wash over his body, and travel down his arms and into his hands. He pushes his hand more firmly to the ground as if he is trying to push the floor to move.

“ _Berbay odarthy arisen yeldo_ ,” Merlin whispers in the silent room.

As his tongue clicks that last letter out, Merlin feels the power flush from his hand and into the floor. He commands it to spread and uses his arms as a guide. Rising them off the floor and spreading his arms as if engulfing the entire castle in them, and engulf the castle it did. The magic spreads like water, a golden fog, only visible to the Merlin. Only felt by Merlin. It blows past the walls, forwards and backward, and to each side until it hit a parameter. Then it rises skyward, taking on the shape of a sphere. It climbed up and over until the entire castle is encased in its globe. Then it shimmers for a mere second before disappearing.    

Merlin only rises when he feels the last of the magic dissolve into the foundations of the building. Then he stands from his spot and adjusts his clothes before leaving the room. He dusts off his vest, flings his hand to fix the desks back to their original positions and then swiftly leaves back towards the great hall. Keenly checking to see if anyone was in the area before moving on. As he came upon the hall, he saw the first years being lead in through the large door. Which means the other students were already seated, awaiting the sorting ceremony.

“ Oh no!” Merlin hisses. Nearly breaking into a jog towards the enormous room. He is late! “No, no, no, no, no, nope!” Merlin suddenly vanishes shape-shifting himself into a raven. The clumsy warlock fly’s above the young student's heads and flies into the very top of the hall, hiding in the illusion of the galaxy that he cast just not too long ago. When he reaches the back of the hall, the raven swiftly dives down to the only empty seat of the professor’s table above the children’s seats.

Just before the bird crashes into the chair, Merlin transfigures back into his human form and sits elegantly in the chair. He earns a startled gasp from Professor Flitwick and an irritated grumble from Professor Snape. Merlin acts as if he has been sitting there from the very beginning, regardless of the wholes he could feel McGonagall burning in his head. He sat just in time to see the young students finish clamoring into their circles, all anxious and excited. Merlin sweeps his eyes over the room, first to the Slytherin table, rigid and silent as they always are.

A very long time ago, Merlin had been sorted into that very house. Not officially of course. The founders of Hogwarts were about 4 eras younger than Arthurs, but Merlin did personally teach Salazar Slytherin himself some old tricks. The old goat then went on to found Hogwarts with the other three legends themselves, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, and Rowena Ravenclaw.

Not without Merlin’s help of course. He gave them the castle, _his_ castle. Merlin had rebuilt the crumbled walls, from their years of rot and age, centuries after the last King had all but passed on. Merlin expanded the foundation immensely. He surrounded the land with a lake and sectioned of what was originally just the Camelot forest into what its known now as the Forbidden Forest.

Then everything happened with time. More magical creatures migrated into the forest and lake, and the four founders were left to build their school in private. Merlin left back to his tower where he spent most of those centuries. Then when everything was ready, the school about to have its grand opening, Salazar came to Merlin and dubbed him one of the very first Slytherins’ as thanks for his contribution.

Then Merlin erased his memory, and that of the three other founders; because no one really needed to know any of that. Merlin had erased any mentions of himself from the books and Hogwarts history and let time pass on. It was only in recent decades that Merlin found himself back here specifically. Disguising himself as a professor in Astronomy. Idly passing his time in wait for the return of the Once and Future King.

Merlin turns his thoughts away from Slytherin and ran his sight over all the tables of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and then to that of Gryffindor. He looks over each face he saw there, then quickly double-checks as he saw something amiss. There are two, one face, in particular, that is strangely absent. A Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley are mysteriously missing, which he finds odd; because their mutual friend Ms. Granger is sitting awkwardly in her chair. Frantically searching for the boys. Merlin turns his head and looks at Professor McGonagall just as she stands to walk over to the first years to start their sorting ritual.

“ _I’ll wait until later to tell her then_.” Merlin thinks. It shouldn’t be too concerning.

________________________________________________________________________  

A round of applause kicked up at the end of the sorting ceremony. Merlin clapped alongside his colleague’s and waited patiently as Dumbledore had started his annual speech. When everything was starting to wind down, and everyone is allowed to start digging into his or her meals, Merlin sees a ghostly apparition start to emerge from the floor at Snape’s feet. Merlin was just turning to get McGonagall’s attention when the unmistakable entity pushed his head, almost humorously, through the wood boards.

Merlin immediately recognizes the Bloody Baron, the murderous mumblecrust. He is whispering something to Professor Snape and whatever it is causes Snape to snap up from his chair and rush off towards the door.

“What on earth has gotten into him?” Flitwick asks exasperatedly. He was always jumpy this one.

“I am not sure,” McGonagall answers standing firmly up, about to chase after him.

“Professor McGonagall,” Merlin calls to her. The elderly witch looks his way and gave him a stern look to hurry him. “I’d bet you four chocolate frogs this has something to do with two very important boy’s missing from your houses dining table tonight.”

McGonagall whips her head to look over the Gryffindor table, immediately recognizing the problem and storming out of the room after Snape, with Dumbledore close in toe. Not surprising he’s jumping to action. Anything involving the Potter boy is the top priority to the headmaster. Merlin considers involving himself, but ultimately decides to stay out of it, for now. Merlin just can’t afford to throw himself head first into the first sign of trouble anymore. Neutrality is his best policy. He decided a long time ago that he’d live the rest of his immortal life as a passenger of time, not a participant.

Merlin stares down at his food and fiddled with it for a while before standing up and leaving the Hall.

“You’re not getting involved now are you?” Flitwick asks before he reaches the stairs.

“Fear not Filius. I’m merely retiring for the night. I still have some papers to prepare for tomorrow’s first class.” Merlin responds joyfully. Flitwick doesn’t answer but gives Merlin an approving huff before ripping back into his food.

Merlin feels some student’s eyes follow his figure out of the great hall.

“Which professor is that?” A first-year Ravenclaw whispers.

“Oh, that’s Professor Emyrs, the second Astronomy professor. He takes over classes for most 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th years. Professor Sinistra handles the rest.” An older student answers.

“ **He’s** going to be our professor?” The girl responded ecstatically.

Whatever the rest of that conversation turned into was now beyond Merlin. He exits through the door and starts his long walk back to his quarters. Merlin is striding across the old stone floors, past the exquisite paintings, too lost in their own conversations to pay him any heed. So many parts of the castle look exactly the same as it did fifteen hundred years ago. Merlin tried his best to keep it as familiar as possible, but time is a merciless beast, and castles back then just weren’t up to par with what the renaissance had eventually revolutionized. It needed to change to last.

Merlin turns into the room with the moving staircases. He climbs a flight of stairs, up and towards the only part of the castle Merlin had made sure was untouched by the passage of time. He rounds a corner and comes upon a small tower, with a spiral staircase, that leads up to an old familiar wooden door. The sign that used to read court physician was now replaced with a plaque that read “Hunnith, Emyrs.” He unlatches the door and flings it open into what used to be his old mentors quarters. Gaius would have an absolute heart attack if he could see it now.

Merlin never stopped being messy. There were books scattered all across the floor. Papers, trash, and old clothes littered every corner of the room. The part of the room that used be Gaius’s workspace was now like a small common room. Fitted with a small black couch and coffee table, a desk near the window, a small table where Merlin would sometimes sit and eat when he didn’t feel like being social downstairs, and Gaius’s old tomes and records still waiting patiently on their bookshelves on the balcony above him. His astronomy equipment filled any remaining space the room had. He had his bed tucked away in the space that is and has always been his; Merlin’s small little storage room that is hidden away in the back of the tower.

Being in his room has makes Merlin realize just how tired he is. He deeply yawns and decides sleep is the best course of action. He doesn’t have any morning classes, and could simply finish his papers early tomorrow. Besides, waking up early also promises him some interesting information about what had occurred tonight. Merlin may not be directly involving himself, but he needs to keep a watchful eye around the school nonetheless. God forbid something horrible happens because he turned stuffy.

Merlin disrobes and tosses the article of clothing onto a rack by the door. He continues to undress as he heads towards his bedroom, tossing his vest, undershirt, and pants onto the floor, something to clean tomorrow. Merlin doesn’t bother changing into sleepwear and chooses instead to fall half nude into his unmade bed. Curling himself in the thick soft comforter he smuggled from the human world when he was last there. Tired eyed Merlin stares up at the small medieval window adjacent to his bed. He sees nothing but pitch-blackness and the occasional flicker of a star. He watches that star flicker until his eyes could no longer stay open, and the old wizard drifting off into a dreamless sleep. 

               

 

 

 

 


	2. With This Hand of God

The sun is burning high in the sky on this very warm afternoon. The orb sending some bright beams of light through the corridors colorfully thin windows. Lighting the hall with hues of greens, blues, and reds. Not a single shadow was present under its veil. Even the dust was visible, floating idly in the air. Which has been suddenly flung about, in all directions, as the body of a man sprinted past it.

Merlin is breathless as he dodges past students lingering in the corridor before him, shoving past those too stubborn to move out of the way. Their bodies falling to the sides of the walls; as their mouths curse his name. His right hand is clutching a briefcase that’s bulking with the weight of every essay, test, homework sheet, and book a young wizard would groan at the sight of. Some papers are flying out of the case and Merlin is too much in a hurry to pay them any mind. He’ll simply make more.

Merlin slides past the corner at the end of the hall and nearly trips when he catches his foot to a section of a rug. He catches himself on a painting of a woman applying her makeup in front of her vanity table. His audible gasp and the thump of his hand smacking the frame startles her, and she drops the brush, she was using to apply her make up with, onto a floor. Hidden by the edges of the frame.

“Watch it!” She screams as Merlin regains his balance and bolts off once more.

“Sorry!” Was all Merlin can manage to spit out over his exasperated breaths.

Finally nearing the room Merlin is adamant to get too, the sorcerer slows down into a jog, then a steady walk. He readjusts his clothes and robe with his free hand and grooms his wind-chafed hair back into place. He quickly pivots into the doorway, then nearly screams as he met with the dreadfully disappointed face of Professor McGonagall. She doesn’t even bat an eye, as Merlin stops dead in the doorway before her.

“Professor Emrys.” McGonagall flatly says, but with a tinge of irritation. “How you manage to be late to _your_ _own class_ is beyond me!” Yeah, it is defiantly irritation Merlin was picking up.

“Ah, about that. You see I got caught up in…”

“Don’t make excuses like a first year.” McGonagall sternly hissed. ”Just get in there and start _teaching_.” McGonagall then brushes past him and storms off down the corridor muttering, “Eight years…eight years of this nonsense.”

Merlin puts it from his mind for now. It’s not the first, nor will it be last, time McGonagall lectures him like some despondent parent. It was actually rather endearing, in some odd way.

“Right then.” Merlin mumbles.

He steps into his classroom and any noise and chatter die as he makes his way to his desk. He can hear little whispers of some student’s, no doubt questioning his absence. He throws the case onto the wooden surface and lazily sits on the corner of it, facing the children. It is the first years and their painfully youthful faces. Some anxious, few excited, and most bored. Merlin always enjoys this part.

“So!” Merlin exclaims, causing a few kids to jump at the sudden expression. “Who here thinks they know everything there is to know about astronomy?”

Some students raise their hands lazily in the air. Another girl in the back shot hers up, straight as an arrow.

“Well, you don’t.” Merlin then follows sternly. The young witch in the back retracts her hand almost ashamedly. “One of the greatest things about science is that it’s ever-changing. What we think we know now may change, and then we change what we think we know, into what we’ve learned.” A large number of students scrunch their noses as they tried to process that sentence.

“The universe is a vast, unpredictable and entirely unexplored area of our world. There are astounding things there; stars, planets, galaxies, quasars, pulsars, and so much more that haven’t even been found yet! So my job here, in this class, is to teach you what we think we know. Then teach you to be ready for when we don’t.”

Merlin searched the room to make sure he still has their attention. The young lady in the back was staring at Merlin as if he’d had grown a second head, but not in a bad way. She is enthusiastic and it makes Merlin smile. He moves to the case tossed upon his desk and removes some sheets from its folds.  

“Now, I want you all to grab your books and turn to page twenty five. We’ll start with the constellations…”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

“Class is dismissed!” Merlin esthetically exclaimed. His students’ scramble from the front of the room, where they were all huddled together near his desk. They quickly walk back to their designated chairs to gather their belongings.

Merlin had been showing the children the star constellations in a similar illusion to the one he cast last night in the dining hall, but on a much smaller scale. He let them use their wands to point out and trace the images of each character, and then he’d explain what it was, where it came from, and it’s importance to both the magical and non-magical world. He’d even let the few students who possess the knowledge already have the short limelight to explain it themselves.

Merlin jumped up from his position on his desk, and started to gather his own things; hearing the students dash out the door and towards their next assigned class.

“This is the greatest class so far. Much better than that snore fest with Professor Binns.” A male Slytherin says while exiting out the door.

“But it doesn’t have magic…” His associate starts to reply before his voice was lost in the distance.

Merlin finishes packing his case and gathers it to head towards the door. As he approaches it, he stops when the enthusiastic witch from before slid in front of him. He has now learned her name is Agatha Hollow.

“Ms. Hollow?” Merlin asks patiently.

“I…I just wanted to say that I’m r..really looking forward to your class this semester. I love astronomy, and your teaching is…well... it's phenomenal!” Agatha blurts out. She then immediately covers her mouth, her face growing red by the second.

“Well, Agatha.” Merlin soothes as he bends down to meet her. “I’ll be delighted to teach such an enthusiastic student. There are not many of us star lovers here at Hogwarts. So we must stick together, eh?” Agatha shakes her head, not daring to speak and Merlin’s chuckles. “Now, off to class with you. You don’t want to be late.” Merlin stands back up and guides her through the archway.

“But you were late.” Agatha teases.

“Go!” Merlin laughs.

Agatha charges off giggling. Merlin shakes his head still laughing and begins to head to the dining hall for lunch. As he comes upon it, Merlin recognizes the distinct, greasy, hairstyle of one Severus Snape.

“Professor Snape,” Merlin calls. Severus slowly turned his head towards him, and blankly stares at Merlin completely uninterested. At least he isn't glaring.

“Yes, Emrys?” Snape says in his slow droll.

“Forgive my need towards idle gossip, but I want to inquire about what happened last night during the feast. Is everything alright?” Merlin boldly asks.

Snape is an enigma amongst the student body and Merlin himself. He is cruel, unfair, and just downright uncomfortable to be around, but he is one hell of a potions professor; and Merlin can at least respect that. He knows that Severus shares a close relationship with Dumbledore, but how close and why is yet to be seen. Either way, Snape has never shown any intentional malice towards Merlin. A few scoffs here, maybe a glare there, but Snape has never brought Merlin’s abilities or knowledge into question. He mostly ignores him when he can. Hell, he even avoids him.

“Have you not read today’s Daily Prophet, Professor?” Snape retorts.

“I’m afraid I’m not much a _papers_ man,” Merlin replies.

“Yes, well if you must know. That scoundrel Harry Potter and his dimwitted friend Ronald Weasley stole Wesley’s fathers flying car last night and flew the thing here to Hogwarts. It was completely visible to the muggle world, and not to mention the damage they did to the Whomping Willow when they crash landed into it.”

All right. Merlin wasn’t expecting to hear that. He figured Potter had something to do with it, but nothing so spectacular. That boy finds trouble as often as Merlin did when he was running around protecting Camelot back in the day.

“That poor willow.” Was all Merlin says.

“Yes.” Snape hisses. “The poor willow.” Then Snape leaves without another word. Merlin wasn't expecting him to stay and chat for long anyway. It also seems to be a sore spot for Severus at the moment as well. Merlin waits until Snape moves out of sight, before continuing into the Great Hall.

“Oh! Professor Emrys! Professor Emyrs!” A soft girls voice calls to him. Merlin searches in its direction and finds non-other than Hermione Granger calling out, fanning her arm in the air wildly. Duty bound to help any student, Merlin makes way his way over there. Ron and Harry are seated close to Hermione. Potter to her left, and Weasley across the table in front of her.

“Yes, what is Ms. Granger?” Merlin asks.

“Sorry to call you over, but it’s Neville.” Merlin looks over at Longbottom and he is hunched over the table with an emptied food bowel held up to his mouth. He is heaving into it, pale as a ghost, and gasping like a dog. “He tried to transfigure an apple, but it backfired.”

“Been coughing up worms all afternoon,” Ron adds exasperatedly. “No one knows how to fix it.”

“You’re the first Professor we’ve seen come into the hall.” Potter finishes.

“I see,” Merlin said. He steps over to Longbottom and pats him and the back. “Tried to turn it into a worm didn’t you?”

Neville weakly shook his head, before hunching over and hurling another bout into the bowel. Poor boy. He had trouble like this last year too.

“Well hold still.” Merlin orders.

He pulls out his “wand” and begins to tap the end of it on Neville’s shoulder. Merlin chanted a spell and bled some of his magic over the boy. While he is finishing the chant, a sudden pain, quick and sharp, pulsated through Merlin’s wand arm. He hissed and clenched his hands to his chest. It was over just as quickly as it came. Confused, Merlin stretches his arm testing it. Seeing if maybe it was just a muscle spasm.

Nothing else happened. His arm felt fine.

“There you go.’ Merlin said, putting it from his mind. “You should stop puking worms now, but do try to have some crackers. It’ll help with the taste and nausea.”

“Th…thank you.” Neville rasped out. Merlin smiled and pats Neville’s shoulder reassuringly.

“He’s not in trouble is he?” Ron asks concerned. He must be thinking about the house points.

“No. We all make mistakes Mr. Weasley. “ Merlin explains. “It’s how we know we’re learning. I’ll not deduct points this time, but be sure to be more careful from now on”

“Yes, Sir.” Everyone shouts.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have my muffin now.” Merlin outstretches his wand to levitate a pastry into his hand.

Then he felt it. Felt it before it happened. The pain, but it wasn’t only pain. Merlin feels an enormous surge of energy, of magic, build and then release out in the hall. He is helpless to control it, and it is happening so fast he can't even register what it is. Merlin cried out as his arm is engulfed in a searing hot pain, aching to the very depths of his bone. His magic was too strong, it was too much and too unstable. Merlin can't focus on anything but his limb and his magic.

Then it just stopped. Like someone quickly turning the knobs on a faucet, the pain in his arm trickling away, and his magic resonating in the air. Merlin is also slightly dizzy. Partially tipsy from the sheer amount of magic that poured out of him, but Merlin could concentrate now, and so he did.

The scene in front of him is horrific. There is a massive scorch mark where his magic exploded outwards in the hall. It stretches diagonally and ends when it hits the wall. Anything that was in the way, the table, food, tapestry, benches, and even chunks of the floor and wall, were eviscerated. Nothing but ash stood in their place now. A large chunk of the Gryffindor table is burned off and the smaller end of it fell forward, dumping all food off the edge, as it all slid to the floor. The entire room smelled of burning oak and cauterized meals. Thank the old gods no students were in the way of the blast.

“Dragon’s dung! What was that?!” Ron Weasley shrieks, his yells bouncing off the walls in the hall.

“Professor, are you alright?” Harry Potter asked distressed.

Merlin can’t find the words to answer him. The last of the burning sensation in his arm fades and Merlin looks down at his hand. The only piece of his wand that survived was the end piece that was tucked in the crevice of his palm.

“Good heavens! Emrys!” Professor McGonagall screeches as she runs into the hall. “Are you alright? What happened here? I heard a roar from halfway across the school!” The old witch dashes up to him and takes his face into her hands. She checks his person up and down, making sure he hasn’t been physically hurt. Merlin opens his mouth to reply with something. Anything.

“I think his wand exploded, Professor,” Hermione speaks up.

“His wand?” McGonagall parrots. Merlin huffs out a strangled breath.

“Yes!” Merlin suddenly exclaims. He inhales and deep breathe, and then exhales; taking his confusion and anxiousness with it. For the time being at least. “I went to perform a levitation spell and then suddenly my wand just…combusted.” Merlin holds what is left of the wand up for McGonagall to see. “Scared me and, I’m sure, the room half to death.”

“Oh dear! We’ll at least no one was hurt.” McGonagall says gently. “You should make your way to the infirmary Emyrs.”

“McGonagall I’m fine.” Merlin started.

“Please, Emrys. Just go” The witch pleads. “I’ll remove everyone from the hall and start getting this cleaned up. You go get checked out, and then we can figure what to do about your wand.” Leave it McGonagall to be the most practical, but Merlin is thankful all the same. He really needs to leave from here.

“Alright.” Merlin agreed. He gives the Professor one last reassuring look, then makes his way out of the room and towards the infirmary. The entire trip he looks down at his hands and his tiny piece of burnt black oak. He brings the object up to his lips and clasps his other hand around it in mock prayer. Merlin hasn’t been this scared and distraught in a very long time. He starts to tear up and stutters:

“What is happening to me?”


	3. A Sweet Whisper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant for this chapter to release far earlier than this, but I had a sudden trip come up and I spent 16 hours driving and a week sick in my home state. So needless to say I got absolutely nothing done. 
> 
> But I'm fine now and ready push out these chapter as I wanted!

Merlin hears singing. A soft melody in a voice he vaguely remembers. Somewhere near him? Further away? It sounds, feels like it’s all around him. He feels warm, like the heat of sunlight. He is weightless, floating as if submerged in water, yet he is not wet. His hair is lifting into the air or maybe that’s his entire body.

This is indescribable. He feels like he’s nowhere and everywhere. He is the past, present, and future. He is gravity, earth, wind, fire, and water, and it doesn’t feel strange or new. He feels…whole. Merlin begins to slowly open his eyes, and all he sees is a sea of gold. Tendrils of magic flow around him, through him, like an air current. Peace. He was truly at peace here.

“ _Meeerliiin **.”**_ A whisper blows past him, but he ignores it.

“ ** _Merlin.”_** It calls to him louder and firmer, it bouncing in the space around him. It is a woman’s voice and he recognizes it but from where? Who?

“ ** _Merlin!”_** She presses. ** _“Merlin, wake up!”_**

Merlin awakes gasping for air like water in his lungs. His hands clutching the sheets until his knuckles turn white, heart pounding against his ribs. The wizard looks frantically around the room. Having trouble distinguishing what is a dream or what is reality. It takes several moments for Merlin to finally calm down.

He threw the sheets to the side and placed both his feet to the floor of his room. The moonlight is still shining in through the window, illuminating small parts of the space in its bluish tinge. Merlin stood and motioned for one of his candles to light, then clutched his hands to stop himself. After what had happened only hours before, in the great hall, Merlin thought it best to hold off on any spell casting. So he lit the candle the old fashioned way, with a book of matches.

Grabbing the candle Merlin heads out into his living area and sets the candle on the only window seal in the entire room. It is right under the top of the stairs that lead up to the balcony. Merlin stares off into the darkness of the night. He can see hints of the old lake, _the_ lake, glistening in the moonlight. Hiding in the background of the Forbidden Forest. It looks silent and still as ever, but something is wrong. Something is different.

It may not be the lake, but a massive force is causing Merlin to unravel. He has _never_ lost control of his magic. Not even in his youth when he was far less capable. It was freighting, to be reminded just how much magic Merlin has. To be remembering the question Merlin asked Gaius so long ago in this very tower.

“ _You don’t know why I was born like this do you_?”

“ _No_.”

“ _I’m not a monster am I_?”

Merlin sighed exhaustedly. Cupping his face in his hands, leaning forward against the window with his elbows. He can feel that this thing is old and it’s calling to him, but he doesn’t know how to follow it. Merlin will have to figure something out unless he wishes to never cast another spell again. He’d rather not blow a hole in his wall trying to warm his kettle.

Then as Merlin started to move away, a loud knock at his door has the old boy nearly jumping from his skin. Merlin makes his over to the wooden door and opens it quietly.

“McGonagall?” Merlin whispers irked when he sees the woman standing before him. Hands clasped in front of her green dress “I already had one scare for the day, I’d much rather you not try and finish me off with another.”

“Forgive me, but I’m afraid this is an important matter,” McGonagall says steely. “May I come in?”

Merlin moves to the side to allow the old witch entrance. She walks idly to the small round dining table and takes a seat there.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Merlin says a bit embarrassed with the state of his quarters. “I, uh, haven’t started…I really, um, hadn’t the time…. sorry, why are you here?” Merlin stutters out.

“I need to speak with you about what happened in the dining hall,” McGonagall says coolly. “

“This early?” Merlin asks.

“Dawn is starting to set as we speak Professor Emrys. I didn’t have time to speak with you yesterday, and I’m afraid with my schedule, this is the only opportune time to have this talk.” Merlin simply conceded with a wave of his hand.

“Then I’ll make tea.”

“Oh, yes please.” She says as Merlin goes to grab the kettle, and light some more candles in the dark room.

“Now according to the student’s they said they saw you cast a spell. One moment you’re fine then the next a blast of magic shot forth from your wand and decimated the entire area.” McGonagall starts.

“That sounds about right,” Merlin agreed. “Would you?” Merlin asks McGonagall, holding his kettle in the air towards her. The witch tapped the metal with her wand and the water inside started to boil.

“What spell were you attempting to cast?”

“Nothing spectacular, just _wingardium leviosa._ I wanted a muffin.” McGonagall just heavily sighs, even as Merlin was handing her a cup of brewed tea.

“Emrys, I’m trying to understand why your wand would just burst apart for seemingly no reason." She says impatiently. "Wands are dangerous things, but I’ve never heard of one just self-destructing like that.”

“You know me. I’m a klutz. I drop my wand about ten times a day," Merlin refutes "Maybe it was worn out and that spell finally did it in,” Merlin says taking a seat opposite to her at the table, watching the witch take a sip from her cup.

“Emrys.” She says sternly.

 “Minerva,” Merlin strains. “I wish I knew, but I don’t understand it any more than you do and I would give anything to be able to."

It is honest. McGonagall knows that, but she also knows that Emyrs is hiding something. Something he is leaving out. She can tell in the way he’s hiding his worry behind a veil a humor, but she decides not to press it. He had always been a frustrating mystery. She looks up at him now and really looks at him. He still looks so young, even with his slightly graying temples. Stress?

He looks just like he did when he barged into the castle nearly a decade ago looking for a teaching position, but he doesn’t feel young. Behind that eccentric persona, he puts on, something about Emrys feels old and wise beyond his years. She can see it in those blue eyes, just as aged and clever as Dumbledores.

“What I know is that regardless of _some_ of your behaviors,” McGonagall says passing a judging eye over Merlin’s pigsty. “I’ve never known you to mishandle magic.”

“Minerva I’d never lie to you,” Merlin replies.

“Yes, you would.” She sadly chuckles. “But I trust that you’re not lying to me now. So we will drop this for now.” McGonagall says rising from her chair and setting aside the cup of tea onto the table. Merlin joins her to help lead her out.

“I am truly sorry about what happened,” Merlin says. “If there is anything I can do. Maybe help clean up?”

“I’ve already had that dealt with.” McGonagall answers. “But I want you to promise you’ll tell me if anything like this happens again. Not just for our sake, but for the safety of the school.”

“You have my word.” Merlin agrees.

“Very good.” She smiles. “You should see about getting a replacement wand in the meantime. You may not need it to teach astronomy, but a wizard’s nothing without it.”

“Hmhm.” Merlin mumbles.

“Well, I’ll see you later then and thank you for the tea.”

With that McGonagall left, her figure fading off into the shadows of the corridors. Merlin closes his door shut when he no longer hears her footsteps. That could have gone a lot worse. Minerva is keen, barely anything gets past her. Merlin knows she means well and she is just looking out for the best interest of the school, and Hogwarts is lucky to have her. However, he can’t afford to have suspicions fall onto him right now. Not when Merlin is uncomfortable performing magic and having surreal dreams. Then at the mention, Merlin lets out a deep yawn.

“I should get more sleep.” He says to himself rubbing his eyes.

The sun is just rising and he has afternoon classes anyway. Dreams or not, being this exhausted will only cripple him. So he makes his way back to bed. Eyeing the window as he passes by, stealing one last glance at the lake of Avalon; but just like always nothing is there. Not even a shake in the trees. So Merlin barges into his bedroom and throws himself onto his bed. Dozing off not even minutes after.

* * *

A couple of weeks pass since the incident. Merlin is packing his papers from a class to leave back to his chambers for the evening. He picks up each object by hand and locks the briefcase in the same way. Being mindful of his habits. He worked on his hands and knees for a King; he can handle a few physical inconveniences. Just as Merlin went to grab the case, a faint knock on his door caught his attention.

“Hello!” A stranger greets him from the archway.

“Hello?” Merlin copies.

“Sorry for barging in, but I’m afraid I never had the chance to introduce myself, I’m Gilderoy Lockhart. “ The man sticks his hand out to Merlin.

“Ah, yes the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” Merlin shakes his hand. “I’m Emrys.”

Lockhart was a seemingly groomed man. Average height, blonde slicked back hair, light blue eyes, and a plastered grin. Unnerving to Merlin in a way as well.

“You left so fast during the sorting ceremony I never had the chance to talk with you,” Lockhart removes his hands from Merlin’s and wipes it off on his brown leather cloak. “You must have heard of me before.”

“I’m sorry, but no,” Merlin flatly says. “I only know your name from the school schedules.” That genuinely took Lockhart aback.

“You’ve never read any of my books? Gadding with Ghouls, Break with a Banshee, Holiday Hags?” Lockhart defensibly asks.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t have much time for reading, sorry.” Merlin answers.

“Well, you must!” Lockhart exclaims, grabbing Merlin’s shoulders under his forearm. “I’ll lend you a couple of my favorite prints later. Any wizard worth his stones should.”

“Thank you,” Merlin said ducking out from Lockhart’s grasp. “But you really don’t have to.”

“Nonsense!” Lockhart’s stares into Merlin’s dull blue eyes. “I’ll find you sometime this week. Right now I need to get back to detention with a Mr. Harry Potter.” Lockhart checks his pocket watch then.

“He’s still serving detention then?”

“Yes, I’ve had him help me with some fan mail, you know. Well, then I’ll talk to you later!” Lockhart exclaims while leaving out the door where he came in.

Strange, Merlin thought. Lockhart seems off. Merlin can’t say why, but he feels it in his bones. Why on earth was he chosen to be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? Merlin hopes Dumbledore knows what he is doing, or perhaps Merlin is being a little harsh. He has been pretty crass lately, annoyed by his restriction on his own magic.

Merlin grabs his case and heads to leave as well. Putting Lockhart out of his mind momentarily. Evening has started setting in as he swiftly walks past all the corridors. Casting dark shadows against the stone floor and walls. The candles are highlighting the environment in a bright orange glow.

Then as he nears the end of a hallway Merlin hears a voice. Is it a voice? More like a hiss, with low unintelligible words. It stops Merlin where he is. The voice is echoing all around him and moving ever slowly away. On instinct, Merlin places the palm of his hand to the wall on his left. At first, there was nothing but the grooved texture of the stone wall beneath his fingertips. Then suddenly a small, scantly there, vibration passed under his finger and traveled further down the corridor.

Merlin doesn’t hesitate to chase after it. The sorcerer desperately trying to decode its foreign language hidden underneath its harsh growl. He can’t comprehend this thing's muttering, but he knew it was intelligible. It meant something. 

He follows it further and further into the castle and nearly lost it after the second floor. As he approaches the walkway that leads out to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, Merlin hears the far conversation of some students. At least he thought it was far off. Merlin nearly runs over three Gryffindor’s in his desperate chase after the disembodied voice. He stops suddenly at their feet, breathing hard, with a mix of panic and confusion plastered on his mug.

“Oh good heavens!” Merlin huffs out. “What are you three just standing in the hallway for?”

“Professor?” A familiar feminine voice calls out. Merlin finally takes the time to focus his attention appropriately on the students at his front. It was Potter and his two conspirators.

“Mrs. Granger,” Merlin says, straightening himself out, and steadying his respire.

Before Merlin says anything else, his eyes catch the glint of something red in his peripheral. He glances its way, and see a most peculiar and horrifying sight. In blood and quite a lot, there are the words “ _The Chamber of Secretes is Open. Enemy of the Heir Beware_.” A Chamber of Secrets? A secret chamber in Merlin’s castle? That shouldn’t be possible. Should it?

“Pray tell, you three,” Merlin says turning to the three children. “What exactly were you doing here?” If this is a joke, it isn’t very funny.

“Nothing!” Weasley declared.

“We found her like this.” Granger seconds.

Merlin is slightly confused at the "her"before he caught sight of a cat hanging upon the candle scone. Merlin recognized it as Filch’s faithful companion. She appears dead, post-mortem, but Merlin could sense the dark magic. She’s petrified, not dead, but it’s no less traumatizing. Poor thing, Merlin thought.

“What are doing here?” Weasley suddenly retaliates. “Scrambling down the hallway like a scared rat!”

“Excuse me?” Merlin says sternly, shaking his finger sternly at the redhead. “I can scramble down any hallway I please! I’m not caught standing suspiciously near an assaulted cat and an eerily blood written memorandum!” Merlin then directs his digit towards the wall.

Ron Weasley is at an absolute loss for words. Which works in all their favors as the group heard the scrambling feet of a group of students coming towards them down the halls. Each turns worriedly towards one another before the mass is upon them. The children alarmed and gasping at the sight before them. One Colin Creevey attempts to lift his camera to snap a picture before Merlin forces it down with his hand.

“The Chamber of Secretes has been opened?” A young blonde haired boy that Merlin knows by Malfoy exclaims. “You’ll be next Mudbloods!”

Merlin watches as he makes direct eye contact with Hermione Granger, and the hauntingly sullen expression she makes afterward. Mudblood, a word Merlin loathes out of this new world of witchcraft and wizardry, almost as much as the term Muggle itself. It is a way to divide a world into two. Merlin suffered, immensely, to fight for the right to be respected and appreciated for his skills in magic amongst individuals who were his friends and family. They weren’t Muggles they were people, and whatever fool thought witches and wizards are too unique and special to be run through with a sword like any ordinary man, would’ve pissed themselves at the sight of Uther Pendragon.

Then there is the term Mudblood; a gross insult thrown at undeserving mages for simply having a non-magical parent. As if magic is genetic. Only gifted to those who breed properly. The entire idea to Merlin was absurd and downright insolent. He sometimes can scarcely believe in this odd mirror world his lives in now. Where Warlocks think themselves higher than Man. So much for Merlin’s equality.

“What going on here?” A shrill voice shrieks from the end of the corridor.

Each person turns their attention to Argus Filch, stammering through the crowd, the man hell-bent on reaching the cause for such a commotion.

“Potter?” The old crippled spits. “What’s goin’ on here…” Filch stops midsentence as he takes notice of the feline. “Mrs. Norris?” His face drops, before his eyes snap furiously back on Potter.

“You murdered my cat.” He says almost stoically.

“No, no.” Potter desperately says.

“I’ll kill ya.” Filch then grabs a hold of Potter’s collar violently. “I’ll kill ya!”

Merlin decides to step in-between the two before things got worse. Filch tries to ignore the lanky wizard and charges forward again towards the boy, but a sudden booming voice stops him where he stands. Merlin looks over his shoulder to see Dumbledore approaching with McGonagall, Snape, and Lockhart beside him. It doesn’t take Dumbledore long to realize the situation, dismissing the students back to their dormitories, but demanding Potter, Weasley, and Granger to stay.

Dumbledore then explains to Filch that his cat isn’t dead but petrified. Impressing Merlin that he could spot to the difference so instantaneously. It didn’t matter to Filch either way. He still blames Potter and accuses him of both petrifying his cat and writing the message on the wall. Which of course Potter denies.

“If I might Headmaster.” Snape comments. “Perhaps Potter and his friends were simply in the wrong place at the wrong the time?”

That confused a few young heads.

“However, I don’t recall seeing Potter at dinner.” Snape accuses.

“I’m afraid that’s my doing Severus.” Lockhart answers. “Harry was helping me answer my fan mail.”

“I might also add that I found the trio here earlier, but I didn’t see any blood on their hands.” Merlin joins in. “They were also confused and trembling like leaves.”

“Professor Emyrs, and what we're doing here? You were also absent from dinner.” Dumbledore’s asks inquisitively.

“I was looking for something.” A half-truth. “I stumbled into the these three not soon afterward.” Dumbledore could sense Merlin was holding back, but he didn’t press it.

“That’s why we went looking for him Professor. Its when we found him that he said…” Granger paused. Everyone looked at the young witch expectingly. 

“…when I said I wasn’t hungry.” Potter finished her sentence a little hesitantly. “We were heading back to the common room when we found Mrs. Norris.” Merlin wasn’t the only wizard that like lying it seems. He wonders what Granger was really about to say.

Regardless Dumbledore persuades Snape down and tries to ease Filch’s mind by promising a cure. He then announces for everyone to proceed with caution, and then dismisses himself from the scene. Snape and Lockhart follow immediately after, and so does McGonagall but not after giving Merlin a very haughty look.

“Right,” Merlin says. “I’ll escort you three back to your common room.”

The three don’t argue and follow behind Merlin obediently. Merlin has a little time to ponder on the route there. He's never heard of a Chamber of Secrets, but then again Merlin has purposefully been absent from the wizarding world for quite some time before this. His former apathy surely has consequences, and this extreme lack of knowledge was one them Merlin begrudgingly admitted, and it hurts. To think that something was happening in this castle, _his_ castle, that he couldn't cast away. He didn't even know where to begin. 

So he continues to lead them through the castle and starts to hear their faint mumbling as they approach the moving stairs.

“I don’t know what you're whispering about, but it sounds highly suspicious,” Merlin says, stopping at the top of the steps. Blocking the path upwards.

“It's nothing Professor,” Potter says.

“Oh I’m sure isn’t,” Merlin sarcastically answers. “Like I’m sure you weren’t lying to the Snape about you being _not hungry_.”

“I wasn’t…”

“If its one thing a person can never do me, Potter, is _lie_ ,” Merlin says suddenly and harshly. Startling the Gryffindors slightly. “I believe you aren’t the one to write that message, but I know your hiding something important. You can tell me.” He says more gently now, bending down to his knee in front of Harry.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” Potter responds. 

“I know a little something about crazy.” Merlin chuckles.

Harry seems to soften up a bit. He fidgets in place and glances for approval from his friends, who simply shrug their shoulders in response. He looked about ready to spill everything to Merlin, but something changes. Something catches Merlin’s sight one last time that night. Something the wizard just can’t ignore. At first, it is a very small spike in his magic; a tinge that washes over his body like a wave.

“ _Merlin_.”

It was that voice again, the one from his dreams. The children showed no signs of hearing it, but they were looking rather befuddled at Merlin and his sudden change in demeanor.

“Professor?” Granger says. “Are you alright?”

“ ** _Merlin!”_**

Merlin’s attention is drawn downwards towards the marble stone of the stairs and there he saw her. He wants to cry, and scream, and faint like a weary princess when he sees the face of Freya. Of course, it was Freya, how could he forget? A sudden outpouring of joy, guilt, sorrow and confusion passed over Merlin’s face as he stares at the beautiful woman before him.

“ ** _It’s time, Merlin.”_**

Then she vanished. Like a fog dissipating after the sun rises. He panics. He didn’t know what to do, or what she meant. Time for what? He hasn’t’ bloody seen, much less talked, to Freya in a millennium. Time? Merlin jumped to feet, crossed his arms, and tapped his toe curiously on the marble. Something important, and something he’s been waiting for. **Something he’s been waiting for.**

Merlin only paused a moment, face fallen in astonishment, and then he bolts down the stairs, out the entrance of the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest. Completely disregarding the student’s behind him as he fled.

“What an absolute crackpot.” Ron Weasley exasperated to his friends before they ascend the rest of the stairs to retire for the night.

 

 

 


	4. The Return of Light Itself

Merlin runs as fast as his legs can carry him through the enormous open grounds of the castle. The only sound echoing in the dead of night being his feet as they loudly batter across the grass in his haste towards the opening of the Forbidden Forest. The moon is waning far above the earth, casting very little light across the path Merlin is sprinting along. His only thoughts are keeping his eyes forward so he doesn’t stray aimlessly away from the lake.

Merlin only slows down when his feet breach past the natural barrier of trees that separates the Hogwarts grounds and the beginning of the canopy of trees. Huffing out short breathes of air into the cool night, keeping a quick but steady pace along the forest floor. The last thing he needed was to clumsily trip over a tree root and knock himself senseless. His slower walk leaves Merlin a little time to think.

The warlock never expected to hear anything about Arthur’s return. He was sure that whatever creatures or gods that reside in Avalon only existed to mock and torture him until the end of time. That they would surely spit Arthur out of the lake at the very moment Merlin turned away. Leaving Arthur to return to this world alone, confused, and scared. Or worse, never bring Arthur back at all.

Merlin didn’t like to think about it or admit it to himself, but he was convinced that Arthur would never return. So many wars have passed, so many human atrocities both from the wizard and non-wizard folk alike. Hundreds of opportunities had long passed for the justification of Arthur’s revival, but he never came. Every major event that happened throughout history Merlin thought it would be the one, and each time it only brings the old fool closer to madness, but he didn’t want to dwell on that now.

So a better thought would be of Freya. Merlin had all but forgotten about Freya over his long life and his heart broke at the realization of it; his poor, lovely, and kind Freya. If anything Merlin was sure the woman’s warning was her choice and hers alone. Not at the behest of Avalon or its agenda, but out of the devotion and love she had for him all those years ago in the tunnels beneath Camelot; his adoring lady of the lake. The thought nearly brought a tear to Merlin’s weary eyes.

So Merlin keeps to the path ahead of him, thanking the old gods for not entirely stripping him of everything he had ever loved. Then as Merlin pushes his thoughts and prayers to the back of his mind, he comes upon a wall of intertwined roots and branches that stretches miles in either direction of the forest. It is an ancient ward Merlin had placed around the lake. It started as a precaution to keep curious travelers away from the lake, and then he kept it going for the sake of the student’s in Hogwarts. Not that the lake is inherently dangerous, but the power that sleeps in it; and the creatures that every so often emerge from its waters were harrowing enough to force Merlin to block any and all access to it. He simply couldn’t allow some misguided mage or gods forbid an evil, temper with something as vastly unknown as Avalon; especially not when Arthur was floating somewhere within its depths, physically or metaphorically.

Merlin lifts his right hand and lays his palm flat against the rough texture of the wood, slightly stroking the branches as he carefully feeds his magic into the wall. This is as good a time as any to see if his magic has ceased to burst out chaotically every time he uses a spell. He now assumes his magic was reacting to the forces of Avalon as its energy shifted for the return of the Once and Future King; reaching out towards the lake, in a strange but violent way. So he took it slow, extremely slow to the point he wasn’t even sure he had the time to waste on this, but he kept it steady nonetheless.

Merlin spread his magic through the wall, now placing both his hands to the surface, and starts to spread the branches out with his arms. The roots shift, creaking and cracking, as they gave way to Merlin’s force, moving away from each other like snakes. They start to expand further out and create an arched opening even after Merlin had replaced his hands back to his sides. The wood moves on command of his will and stops once a doorway large enough for ten people to squeeze through had stood where a solid wall had once been.

Good Merlin thinks. His magic dissipates back into his body without any trouble and the energy around him feels balanced and quiet. Satisfied Merlin continues his trek into the deepest part of the Forbidden Forest. His feet carrying him a little faster as he starts to see the twinkle of the lake's surface in the distance. Nothing looks different, at least not immediately to Merlin as he approaches the lake. The vegetation of the woods grows thinner as he emerges into its opening. The trees disappearing to be replaced by long and thin blades of grass that extends out into the shallow water of the bank. The moon reflects brightly off the still water, and nothing but the sound of the soft wind blowing through the foliage could be heard.

All is peaceful at the lake. No signs of a thrashing male in the water, no angry shouting, not even the subtle shift of magic was present here. Even the sounds of crickets weren’t present.

The feeling of something coming was loud and clear, however. It raises the skin on Merlin’s arms and sends a shiver down his body, like the feeling of someone watching you from behind. It is nothing magical, more his intuition than anything supernatural. It isn't here yet, just the trudges of something greater are washing over the lake as of yet, but it would be upon him soon.

So Merlin perches himself on a boulder, his legs crossed and arms draped over his knees. The rock is jutting out of the bank towards the lake like a thick giants finger, revealed many decades ago as time withered the lake away. Then he waits and ponders.

He takes this time to reflect. He isn’t ready for this. Gods he hasn’t even thought about Arthur, truly _thought_ about him, in centuries. Not those little ghosts of memories or feelings that pass over his mind's eye when he smells a familiar scent or witnesses a vaguely familiar scene or even sees someone that slightly resembled his old friend. It was too painful to think about anything more. His mind would always wander back to that day. In the field with Arthur whispering a “thank you” with what little breath he had left before the light finally left his eyes.

Merlin wipes a tear that threatens to fall with the back of his hand. At that moment, near the lake's bank, as Arthur’s corpse floated upon the water, Merlin realized just how in love he was with him. He was always vaguely aware of it. Too cowardly to admit it, even more, frightened to confess it out loud. At the time it seemed like enough. To be by his side, protecting him, and seeing him grow into the King he knew he could be. So he had ignored the way his heart broke when Arthur confessed his love to Guinevere, buried the pangs of jealousy at their wedding, and avoided being in their way as much as he could, servant or not.

He convinced himself he was content. That as long as Arthur and Gwen were happy, then he would be too, and to a degree that was true; but Merlin had never felt a sorrow as great as losing the other half of his coin. Merlin was forced to think about everything he could have had. The life he wanted with Arthur, not the life he was given. He wanted Arthur, body, mind, and soul; regardless of those times, laws, or morals. All he wanted, truly ever wanted, was to be by Arthur’s side as an equal, a friend, and lover. Then that was ripped out of his hands by his own folly, and Merlin just can’t handle it.

He can’t take the thought that his selfishness, his cowardice, is what eventually led to the downfall of the great kingdom of Camelot. If he had only killed Morgana when he had all those chances, or let Mordred die on the pike Uther had built for him. He should’ve had the courage and might to call down his magic on both of them when Morgana threatened her war against Arthur and Camelot, but he foolishly held out hope that they would change. He prayed that good still existed in the fair lady Morgana. That Mordred was as kind and understanding as he led Merlin to believe he was.

The thought turns Merlin’s tears of woe into tears of bitter hatred. Towards Morgana, Mordred, and all the other villainous sorcerers and creatures that made an attempt at Arthur’s life and kingdom, but Merlin mostly hates himself. He has the power to move the earth if he so wished it, but in his youth, he was so naïve and callow. What he wouldn’t do to return there as he is now. Maybe things would have been different.

Merlin scoffs lightly at the thought. No, everything would have stayed exactly as they are now. Destiny has been nothing but cruel, and whatever Merlin would have done differently the fates that guide his life would have led up to this exact moment regardless. They probably would have just ended up worse in all honesty. So Merlin wipes the tears from his eyes and forces his thoughts away to the back of his mind where they belong.

 

This is exactly why he avoids thinking about Arthur. Though now he has little choice in the matter.

 

Then suddenly, as Merlin was rubbing his face dry with the sleeve of his jacket, he felt a sudden tug at his ankles. He gives a shrill scream, his spirit nearly leaving his body, as he attempts to pull his leg away from whatever was grabbing him. He didn’t have time to look at it before he was being wrenched down into the water, the force of the pull too strong and fast for him to brace himself as he was plunged suddenly into the depths. The chill of the lake knocks the breath out of Merlin as he is still pulled by some unknown thing further and deeper into the body of water. Before Merlin lost his sight as the moon fades into the distance, he quickly cast a spell upon his body that would allow him to breathe comfortably. He didn’t have the time to protect himself from the cold before a blinding and golden light starts to shine through the blackest veil of the lake. It's gleam so radiant that it is impossible to make out the center of the source, similar to staring at the sun on a hot summers day. Whatever is taking him meant to lead him to it.

As he approaches only meters away his body is abruptly released. He floats a little further ahead before the pressure of the water stops him dead in the abyss. His natural instinct is to swim back up, but he knew that whatever dragged him down here would bring him back if he tried. He was in no obvious danger, yet, so he starts to paddle his way towards the light. Cursing to himself as the layers of his clothes made it more difficult than it needed to be.

He slowly nears the anomaly and can start to make out a shape right in the center of the light. It looks like a silhouette of a man, and Merlin doesn’t even second-guess himself before he starts propelling himself faster towards the form. Merlin reaches his arms around the figure as he nears it, finally able to see him within the center of the bright light.

Arthurs' head is lolled to the side, and it appears as if he is blissfully sleeping. His blonde hair is floating easily with the sway of the water, and it appears as if he is breathing. Merlin takes notice that Arthur is wearing the armor he died in. Like time never moved on. He looks just the way Merlin had left him, and its pains Merlin to see it.

The wizard stretches his arms out to fully embrace Arthur against him, but as his hands touch Arthur’s skin the man unexpectedly wakes in a panicked fit. He thrashes about bewildered and tries desperately to peel Merlin’s arms away from him, not even caring to look behind him. He attempts to scream but his lungs were met with a mouthful of the dark lake water, and Arthur starts to choke and become increasingly more violent. Now Arthur is hysterical and is trying to strike at Merlin wildly. He gets a few good hits into the sorcerer’s stomach but Merlin clings onto the man for dear life. He lost him once; he will not lose him again.

The light that surrounded them was beginning to fade fast, threatening to leave them in total darkness. Merlin, having enough of Arthur’s assault and the risk of him drowning in this murky lake, wiggled one of his arms free from Arthur’s chest, and pointed the palm of his hand towards the surface.

“Aystre!” Merlin commanded from his mind.

Just as the gold of his magic washes over his iris’s Merlin felt the water of the lake start to swirl around them, gaining speed and pushing the boys down further into the depths. Merlin felt his feet hit the soft mud of the lake's floor, then he uses the same hand he commanded the water with to spread the remaining liquid apart. The water washes over them for only a few seconds before it splits, the entire lake separating into halves, like two unmoving tidal waves. Merlin’s magic creates a horizontal pathway back to the shore from their position at the center of the body of water. Parts of the water are still rushing down the mass that Merlin created, separate from the magic that binds the water. The small droplets rain down over Merlin and Arthur as they rested there for a moment.

Arthur is coughing up the water he had swallowed, but he is no longer trying to fight against Merlin. Exhausted, wet, and dazed Arthur simply slumps up against Merlin’s chest and tries to even out his breathing. Merlin allows him this moment of rest, a little grateful that Arthur hasn’t taken notice of him just yet. When the man seems to have gathered enough of his senses, Merlin helps him stand and supports Arthur’s weak legs by shouldering his weight. He begins to lead him to the shore, taking careful steps in the sticky mud beneath their feet.

“Where……who?” Arthur begins to mumble, but it's clear he is still a little breathless. Arthur is still speaking in Middle English, and it took a second for Merlin to recognize the words.

“Shh, not now Arthur.” Merlin gently says. “We can talk later, but let me help you.”

“I don’t…understand,” Arthur admits, falling unexpectedly forward when his leg drags against a stone, the weight of his armor nearly plummeting him to the ground.

Merlin seizes him before he falls, and hoists him back up onto his shoulders. Arthurs' head tilts to the side and he glances over at Merlin’s face. Merlin does his best to ignore his stare, and continue forward until they reach the bank.

Merlin lays Arthur down on the grass and turns to dispel his enchantment. Letting the water crash back down into the lake, the gravity making waves large enough to come up over the bank and flow past Merlin’s feet. Arthur didn’t try to move or even get up when the liquid laps around him and recedes back into the body of water.

Merlin turns to look at Arthur. He has never seen the man so weary. The exhaustion weighing heavily on his body and mind. Merlin doesn’t even think Arthur took notice of his enchantment, which is a blessing at the moment but also a concern.

“I need to get you back to the castle,” Merlin said, bending down to Arthur.

He began to unbuckle the clasps around his armor and shed Arthur of the heavy pieces of metal. He was too heavy to drag through the forest alone, and Arthur surely didn’t need the extra weight at the moment. He will leave them here for now. He can always return for them later. So he removes every piece, his fingers naturally working as if it hasn’t been several long centuries since he last disrobed his prince. Arthur watches him intently, never taking his eyes off of Merlin’s face. The sullen king only grunts when Merlin has particular trouble lifting the cuirass from his chest, otherwise, he was perfectly silent.

Merlin starts working on removing his vambraces when Arthur finally speaks.

“Merlin?”

Merlin freezes. He looked up slightly from his work and finally met the blue of Arthur’s eyes. He didn’t realize how much he was avoiding them until now. Merlin tries to answer him but nothing comes out. He can't even manage to nod his head. The only thing he could think about was how long it has been since someone called him by his name; his real name.

“Merlin,” Arthur said a little more firm. Arthur grabbed a hold of Merlin’s wrist, grounding him. Merlin nodded his head this time, but Arthur was already sure of it. “What is…?” He asked.

“I know you’re confused.” Merlin cut him off. “And none of this makes sense, but please Arthur. This isn’t the place for explanations.” Merlin replied.

“Just tell me what’s going on.” Arthur almost pleads.

“I promise I will,” Merlin said as resistant as he could manage. “But this forest is dangerous, were soaking wet, and the last thing I need is for you to freeze to death on this cold winter night. So I am taking you back to the castle where there is a warm bed and safe walls.”

He could see it in Arthur’s eyes. He could tell that Arthur wants to argue, to bicker with him and demand answers, but instead he resigns to lie back down on the long grass and allow Merlin to continue removing his armor, which he did. Maybe it was the fatigue that kept his tongue, or maybe for once Arthur saw the wisdom in his words and simply accepts it. Merlin couldn’t be sure, but he was positive that this compliance would be short-lived.

So Merlin took the opportunity now. When he was done he helps Arthur back onto his feet. He limbs are still weak, and he can barely stand; so Arthur leans on Merlin the entire walk back. Neither of them speaks the entire way, and if Arthur has anything to say about the giant wall of tree roots they pass under or the dark and foreboding atmosphere of the forest around them, he chooses to stay silent. Not that Merlin is in the right mind for chitchat anyways. He focuses on the path ahead and trying to think of a way to sneak Arthur into the castle without anyone seeing them. He would just Apparate into his room, but he didn’t want to frighten Arthur. He is already confused as it is, and throwing teleportation at him will only make things more difficult.

When Merlin sees the edge of the forest come into sight and the dark shape of the Hogwarts castle slowly appear he decides the only thing he can do is sneak through and just pray no one is up and wandering the halls. Just as they pass through into the opening of the school grounds Arthur suddenly became heavier against Merlin. He nearly threatens to topple Merlin onto the grass. Regaining his balance Merlin looks down at his king and notices that Arthur has drifted off to sleep.

Merlin sets him down and pats his face gently calling his name, but he doesn’t wake up. Arthur’s breathing is steady, and his eyes twitch from entering into a deep sleep. Has Merlin been dragging an unconscious Arthur this entire time?

Merlin huffs out a sigh and stood up from his crouching position. He can't haul a sleeping Arthur through the hallways. He was heavy enough awake, but Arthur wasn’t waking up anytime soon either. So Merlin only had one option and he had to make quick work of it. He quickly picked Arthur up into his arms, as much as he could anyway, and Apparated back into the warm comfort of his tower, and Arthur is still blissfully asleep, thank the Gods.

As Merlin shifts his hold on Arthur’s arms, he can feel just how cold Arthur really is. His clothes are still damp from the water, and the freezing night air has reddened his cheeks and nose. Merlin can also feel how chilled he is to the bones. He isn’t any better off than Arthur really, just as wet and his ears tipped a vibrant pink from the nippy air.

Merlin lays Arthur down on the sofa and goes to fetch some warmer clothes for both of them. As he passed the fireplace Merlin swayed his hand trough the air and lit a fire with his magic, levitating a log into the hearth for some extra life. Then he disappears upstairs.

He was gone a short while. Looking for clothes that would fit Arthur’s broad frame, and manages to find some relatively baggy nightclothes. He returns downstairs, already changed in his sleepwear and finds Arthur still sleeping, but he managed to roll himself over to face the heat of the fire. Merlin smiles a bit at the sight. The bright glow of the fire let Merlin see Arthur’s face better. He just looks so alive, like everything that happened all those years ago had never passed. It is a foolish thought, but it makes Merlin happy nonetheless.

Merlin walks over and carefully removes Arthur’s wet clothes and replaces them with the dry ones. He contemplates letting Arthur sleep on the sofa, near the warmth of the fire; but ultimately decides the bed would be better suited for him. Merlin’s couch isn’t the most comfortable piece of furniture to sleep on, and after what Arthur just went through he deserves a good solid nights rest. So Merlin very gently lifts Arthur with his magic and sets him upstairs in the bed. Warming the comforter with a heat spell, and tucking Arthur in like the spoiled prince he is.

Merlin meant to move away and head back downstairs. He will sleep on the sofa tonight and prepare for a very long day tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave the edge of the bed. He continues to stare at Arthur’s sleeping form, not looking anywhere specific but just looking. Merlin fears the minute he walks through that door, all of this will have been a dream. Arthur will disappear come morning, and Merlin will wake feeling like a naive fool. The thought sends a wave a fear through his heart.

Merlin reaches out, hesitating only a second before he gently holds Arthur’s face in the palm of his left hand. The solid weight of his head and the gentle breathing that passes Arthur’s nose onto his skin is grounding. It screams to Merlin that this isn’t a dream, and Arthur has really returned to him, but it still takes a few moments before Merlin can retract his hand and force himself to stand up to leave. He takes one final glance back at the man, before shutting the door behind him. Retiring to the couch.

Merlin isn’t prepared for tomorrow, just as he wasn’t prepared for tonight, but that hardly matters. Arthur is back, and Merlin will have to learn how to handle this for his sake. They have a lot to discuss, and Arthur has a lot to learn about how the world has changed and it isn’t doing any good for Merlin to dwell on it now. So he lies down on the sofa and stares up at the ceiling until his lids become heavy. His last conscious thought being over how nice it was for Arthur call his name.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, but I finally have the time I want to continue this series. I've settled down into my new place, and now I can really focus on finishing this story without any major interruptions.


	5. Comfortable Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank Odin the holidays are OVER!

Arthur wakes to a bright light that is hitting him directly in the face. The warmth is nice, but Arthur groans and flinches away from the offensive rays nonetheless. He lies in the bed a few seconds before he realizes this bed isn’t his. The blanket is unlike anything he’s ever seen. It’s very thick and bubbly. Seemingly sewn with an unrecognizable material and as black as night. The scent of lilac drafting off it as Arthur moves to sit up.

 

Then he notices how comfortable the bed is. He thought his bed in his room was the best available, but this was beyond expression. The mattress is soft and his body sinks perfectly into it, the pad enveloping him tenderly. When Arthur moved he didn’t hear the creaking of the box springs, or the crackling of the wool blanket under his hand, and God the pillows!

 

Arthur jumps from the bed. Stepping away from it, his mind racing a mile a minute. This room. It’s vaguely familiar but different. Its small, even dingy, but the furniture is so alien. The shape of it sits at the edge of his memory, and as Arthur tries to remember, it isn’t the room that comes to mind. It’s last night. He recollects nearly drowning, and then he was on shore with a man. No, it was Merlin. Arthur was with Merlin, and then he can’t remember much else. A vague walk in the woods, then darkness had consumed him.

 

Its Merlin’s, Arthur starts to recall. This is Merlin’s room in Gaius’s chamber. It’s changed, but it’s impossible to deny, and if this is Merlin’s room, then Arthur’s in Camelot!

 

Arthur opens the door downstairs and walks into what he expected to be Gaius’s work area, but the sight he sees prickles his skin. The room has been transformed into a small living space, but it’s so foreign. He recognizes everything that supposed to be there. A dining table, hearth, chairs, bookcases, and sitting area, but then there are things or devices he’s never seen. Things he can’t begin to explain what their use is. But the room isn’t what starts his heart racing. It’s the magic. Objects are floating, free of will, around the room. Cups are landing in place on the table, and a pitcher-like object starts pouring a black liquid into them.

 

The smell of food is cooking on the small stove behind the chairs. All the utensils are moving about as if alive, performing their duties diligently. Flipping the food in the skillet when needed, the towels cleaning the messes they leave behind, and the finished spoons and knives, throwing themselves into the waiting water of the sink. Arthur watches them work, his jaw agape, and eyes wide. Frozen in place, as he tries to believe what he is seeing.

 

Then the panic sets in. There is magic here, which means a sorcerer is somewhere, possibly nearby. Arthur starts to step backward, thinking about retreating back to the room above him. Should he run outside instead? Would it be just as alien? Where are his knights and Gwen? Where is Merlin? Is this even his kingdom, his castle? What the hell happened before he was drowning? Why can’t he remember?!

 

Arthur’s breathing becomes very heavy and erratic. He grabs his head as if it would stop his thoughts from getting louder. He is unconsciously backing up again before he rams right into a small side table under one the windows. An empty vase falls and shatters onto the floor, and the loud sound of it helps pulls Arthur out of his own head for a second. Long enough to hear the heavy footsteps of someone running towards the front door, before it slams open and Merlin emerges from behind it.   


“Arthur?” Merlin calls out to him concerned.

 

Arthur just stares at him, like he did on the shore the evening before. He didn’t know how to respond. Tell him he’s okay? He isn’t. Arthur takes the edge of the side table and purposefully throws it the ground atop the shards of the vase. His bewilderment is turning into anger and frustration.

 

“What is this?!” He finally yells. “Where am I?!” He demands Merlin to tell him. The beating in his chest is so loud now he can barely hear Merlin shuffling towards him. Merlin rushes over to him and gently takes his face into his hands.

 

“Arthur you need to calm down,” Merlin says steadily. When Arthur tried to shove his hands away, Merlin jerks his face back towards him and holds his jaw more sternly. Merlin makes sure he can’t break eye contact with him. Arthur clutches Merlin’s wrist instead, this time when he moves and uses the contact to resolve himself. Merlin is patient as ever and waits until his breathing becomes even. Arthur using the endless blue of his eyes to guide him back to that quiet.

 

They are not as blue as they used to be Arthur notes in his thoughts. Merlin drops his hands from his face when he’s sure Arthur has relaxed enough.   


“I’m sorry,” Merlin says. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.” He moves away from Arthur and snaps his finger loudly in the room. The magic around them suddenly fades, all the object dropping motionless to the counters and tables. “We…have a lot to talk about. Please.” Merlin takes a seat at the table, and gestures for Arthur to join him.

 

Arthur cautiously moves over to him and sits in the chair opposite to Merlin. Those cups that Arthur took note of earlier was placed directly to his left. The dark liquid inside is steaming hot.   


“Arthur you’ve been gone…a very long time.” Merlin says annoyingly vague.

 

“Gone” Arthur huffs. “What do you mean?” Arthur says confused. Merlin studies Arthur's face, now just as puzzled as he was.

 

“You don’t remember?” Merlin sadly asks. His face was grim, and it made Arthur shift uncomfortably in his seat.

 

Merlin was like everything else in this place, familiar but so different. For one Merlin has a beard, and that’s not anything Arthur expected to see him sporting. It is as dark as his raven black hair and well trimmed. Merlin’s cheekbones were exquisitely accented with the dark contrast. Merlin was older than when Arthur last saw him or remembers seeing him. His eyes look tired, and his usually messy unkempt hair is lazily slicked back and out of his face. Arthur notes some grey streaks creeping out of Merlin’s roots above his, larger than ever, ears. It suits him oddly enough.

 

“The only thing I clearly remember right now is last night.” Arthur answers. “And even that is a little fuzzy.” He admits out loud.   


“You don’t remember the battle at Camlann?” Merlin asks more specifically this time.

 

Arthur was about to answer with another no, but as the words Camlann left his mouth, it was like a floodgate had opened. Memoires, as vivid as a dream, rush back into the forefront of his mind. He remembers the battle, the old wizard atop the mountain and his lightning, then being mortally wounded by Mordred, before Arthur took his life. He starts to recall everything, Merlin revealing his magic, after all those years, and Arthur hating him for it, and then he didn’t. Arthur had finally started to understand.

 

His heart breaks when he sees the image of a desperate Merlin clinging to hope and dragging Arthur’s dead weight to the lake of Avalon. He sees and can almost feel the way Merlin held him there, tears staining his cheeks as he pleaded for Arthur to stay with him. After Arthur whispers that final _thank you_ the memories stop coming. Darkness overtakes his mind. It is cold and still.

 

“I died,” Arthur says after a long moment, eerily calm. Merlin nods his head and places his clasped hands in front of his mouth, waiting. A moment of silence is held in the air as Arthur absorbs all of this information.

 

Arthur didn’t want to ask it, and his stomach churned when he looked at the older man in front of him.

 

“How long?” Arthur strains. “How long was I gone, Merlin?” Merlin doesn’t answer him; his head is turned away and looking anywhere but at Arthur. “Merlin! How long was I dead?!” Arthur frantically asks again. Merlin doesn’t answer him immediately; he looks like he has to think about it before finally telling him.

 

“It’s been fifteen hundred years, Arthur,” Merlin says quietly.

 

Arthur freezes, his body going numb as the number settles in his mind. A few years wouldn’t have been so bad, he’d even be able to deal with a decade or two, but this? This is a nightmare, it had to be, but Arthur knows when he’s dreaming and when he isn’t. This doesn’t feel like a dream.

 

Arthur doesn’t even let Merlin say anything else before he’s bolting out of the front door of the room. He runs down the hallway that used to lead down to his chambers, but he only goes a few feet when he realizes nothing looks the same here at all. The architecture has changed, the windows, the floor, and the layout are all dissimilar! Then Arthur hears Merlin calling after him, the lanky man running directly at him. Arthur starts running away again, anywhere but here.

 

He bypasses a lot of people who gasp and move out of his way, but he ignores them. Keeping his eyes only focused on the path ahead of him. Merlin wasn’t far behind; screaming his name, and apologizing to everyone he passes by that is no doubt looking on in bewilderment at the scene. Arthur eventually rams into a dark empty room full of desks and chairs. Curtains cover the windows, and the light leaking through made the dust float about the air like snow. Arthur collapses onto the ground, and can’t do anything but weep.

 

He can hear Merlin enter the room, but he doesn’t say anything. Arthur counts the man’s footsteps until he in directly beside Arthur. He crouches down next to him, and lounges back on the palm of his hands. He doesn’t talk or even make a noise aside from his steady breathing. He gives Arthur a look of understanding and an incredibly sad smile, and then he just sits with him.

 

Merlin is the pillar when Arthur needs him. Arthur couldn’t handle this on his own, and Merlin just being there, as mystifying as that is, put Arthur’s mind and heart at ease far faster than he would’ve been able to do on his own. At least he had someone to share this devastation with.

 

Arthur and Merlin sit there in that room for a while. The shadows where the light could reach were now long and dark. Arthur let Merlin coax him back to his room when he was ready to stand up again. It didn’t take much convincing, and the two walked close together down the unfamiliar hallway once more. No one was there this time, much to Arthur’s relief. When they both reach the tower again, Merlin pushes Arthur back into bed. Insisting more rest would do him some good.

 

Arthur is emotionally exhausted, and it doesn’t take any time at all for sleep to claim him again. The last thing he hears before floating back into oblivion was the ill-hidden whimpers of Merlin’s own weeping downstairs.

 

 


	6. A Compromise

Merlin jostles awake with the thrashing on his front door. He groans as he lifts his head from the hard wooden table he is situated at. His shoulder is painfully tense and a sharp jolt of pain sears through his neck as he sat more upright. Merlin had passed out on his dining room table last night. He was impressed he held himself together during Arthur’s meltdown, but he couldn’t hold back the tears when he was safely tucked away back into his bed. He has never seen Arthur so distraught, and the guilt weighed upon Merlin heavily.

 

Merlin doesn’t have time to dwell on it as another litany of thrashes come from his door. He slowly stands up and makes his way over to the door, his hand fidgeting with his messy and unkempt hair. He opens it only slightly when McGonagall has burst the rest of the way through; her face a mix of anger, worry, and confusion.

 

“Emrys!” She exclaims. “Thank the heavens!” She exhales a breath of relief. “Three-second years say you run off in the middle of the night, then you miss all your classes yesterday! What is the matter with you? Should I be worried?”

 

She was angry but similar to a mother’s anger. It is bred out of worry and fear, not any particular type of malice. Merlin looks like something to worry about. His eyes are red and puffy, he is still wearing the same outfit from two nights ago, and just all of him was disheveled and exhausted.

 

“I’m fine.” Merlin quickly replies. “I’m fine.” He repeats again but slower and more thought out.

 

“Professor this is completely unacceptable.” McGonagall sighs. “I need a reason why you didn’t attend your classes yesterday and why Hagrid saw you sprinting into the Forbidden Forest a night ago!”

 

“I’m sorry Minerva. I really am.” Merlin says to her and contemplated something. He turns around to let her the rest of the way in, and freezes when he sees Arthur leaning up against the frame of the door to his room. His arms crossed and his brow lowered. The yelling must have woken him. Minerva caught sight of him as well and threw a bewildered look at Merlin.

 

“He is the reason behind my absence.” Merlin quickly concocts. “Please, have a seat and I’ll tell you.”

 

Merlin really doesn’t want to wipe McGonagall’s mind. It isn’t fair on him or her, but he couldn’t risk losing this position now. McGonagall is clever, and she’ll catch a lie as soon as it leaves Merlin’s mouth, so he’ll have to tread carefully and use only half-truths. Merlin tried to ignore Arthur’s presence behind him. He can feel his eyes burning into the back of his skull.

 

Suddenly Merlin realizes Arthur can’t understand them. He still speaks in Middle English, so he can only interrupt their conversation through body language alone.

Which will make this much easier. McGonagall takes a seat at his small dining table and Merlin beckons a pot of tea over to her. She takes it into her hands but doesn’t drink from it.

 

“You look like a mess.” She comments staring worriedly at Merlin. The look hurts his heart. It was similar to the look his mother used to use on him. When he’d play out in the fields of Ealdor as a child. Worried he’d get caught for accidentally using magic. It was also the same look she had the first time he’d had left for Camelot.

 

“Minerva” Merlin starts. “I know you don’t know a lot about me, and you don’t really have any right to care or take this into consideration, but all my life I’ve been waiting for one specific thing to happen. It’s felt like I’ve been waiting centuries for it.” Merlin smiles sadly, so much more sorrowful then he meant it to be and it distressed McGonagall even more.

 

“That man behind me.” Merlin nods his head towards Arthur. “He’s that something.” McGonagall turns to look at Arthur. He was no longer leaning on the doorframe, but standing rigidly in place, his fists curled at his sides and shoulders tensed, clearly confused and trying to sort the situation out.

 

“I lost him years ago to my own foolishness and greed. I’ve been aching to make amends for it, and he needs my help now more than ever. He’s the reason I disappeared into the forest a night ago and the reason I missed my classes.”

 

McGonagall thought on this information for a moment. Finally taking a sip of her tea, her face pulling taught, as it was lukewarm.

 

“Is he a muggle?” Was the only question she can think to ask at this moment? Merlin is being so heartbreakingly honest and she saw he was keeping the details from her, but his face. She has never seen that look on Emry’s face before.

 

Merlin doesn’t immediately know how to answer that. True, Arthur never used magic, and would most likely never use it, but he is a child born of it. Magic is attracted to Arthur as much as it is too Merlin. Arthur’s life had been surrounded by magic just as he was surrounded by the air or earth.

 

“He doesn’t use magic, but he’s no stranger to it.” Merlin settles on saying. That didn’t seem to completely appease McGonagall but she didn’t push it any further.

 

“What’s his name?” She asks, mentally checking off a list of basic questions.

 

“Arthur.” Merlin states simply.

 

“Does he speak English?”

 

“Yes, buts he’s a bit…out of it at the moment.” Merlin tries to explain away Arthur’s very rigid and awkward silence. McGonagall just nods.

 

“Will he be staying here long?”

 

“I’m not sure.” Merlin answered honestly.

 

“This is a school Emrys, not a boarding house.” McGonagall sighs. “I can’t just allow strangers to roam around the school unsupervised.”

 

“He won’t be unsupervised.” Merlin quickly states. “I’ll be watching over him.”

 

“Emry’s…” McGonagall starts.

 

“Minerva, please,” Merlin begs. “I didn’t plan for this to happen, and he means everything to me. I can’t just toss him out, and I have nowhere for us to go outside of this castle. Nowhere good at least.” Merlin mumbles. “I know this is unorthodox, but I won’t let anything happen. Arthur is harmless, and I bet I can even find something useful for him to do.”

 

“Like what?” She tries to humor him a little.

 

“He’s exceptionally athletic and knows sword training. Maybe something in Quidditch or he could help out Hagrid around his hut perhaps.” Merlin said placing his hand over his mouth in thought.

 

He is so pure and adorably honest in his reply that it makes McGonagall smile. She was doomed with this man the moment he stepped foot inside this castle eight years ago. Merlin glances questionably at her, and she just shakes her head at him.

 

“You’re ridiculous.” She says warmly. She lets the moment settle before turning more serious again. “I’ll have to talk to Dumbledore about this, and luckily enough for you, he’s more than understanding and values friendship and loyalty above most things.”

 

Dumbledore knowing any of this doesn’t settle well with Merlin at all, but it’s a small price to pay for not getting fired and immediately thrown out of his own castle. That’d just be embarrassing.

 

“Thank you!” Merlin says. “Minvera you’re a blessing.”

 

“Hmhm.” McGonagall hums. “We’ll have to find something for him to do. He can’t just wander around the castle. It is better for him to at least, somewhat be a part of the faculty. We’ll consider his payment his room and board here for now.”

 

“That’s more than fair. I’ll think of something he can do.” Merlin says.

 

“See that you do.” McGonagall says.

 

McGonagall stood to leave the room. Merlin leads her to the door as he always does, and says one final thank you to the woman before she disappears down the corridor. When he shuts the door, Merlin presses his back too wood and slides down onto his haunches, and ducks his head into his arms.

 

That could narrowly have been his job, and even though this outcome isn’t the most desirable, it’s at least manageable. He wasn’t sure how Arthur is going to react to the school, he isn’t even aware of where the hell he actually is at the moment. He believes he’s somewhere else that’s defiantly not Camelot, and Merlin is mentally preparing himself for the fallout once that little nugget of information eventually reveals itself.

 

Not to mention the magic. Arthur accepted Merlin’s magic, practically on his deathbed, but Merlin is sure the absolute amount of it, in a school meant to teach warlocks and witches the art, is going to give Arthur a straight up heart attack. Considering he doesn’t run Merlin threw with a butter knife before then.

 

It’s just hard to know how to approach this. What angle to go about it at. He’s been gone for so long. There is so much history he has to learn, culture and language he has to adapt too. Merlin can use a spell to mentally imprint English into his memory but it’ll still be strange. He won’t immediately understand all the mannerisms or slang. The body language is the same, however, and that will help. Arthur isn’t stupid; regardless of how often Merlin teased him about it.

 

A warm hand gripped Merlin’s wrist and startled him out of his own thoughts. Arthur was looking at him a little confused.

 

“What are you doing, _Merlin_.” He tries to say teasingly, but the bite simply isn’t there.

 

“Nothing,” Merlin says and stands up with Arthur, gently removing the grip he had on his arm. Arthur jus sternly looks and slowly blinks at him. “I was just thinking.”

 

“I wasn’t aware you were capable of that,” Arthur says. Merlin appreciates the attempt at banter, but he just isn’t in the mood to be playful. “Who was that woman?” Arthur says after a long silent pause between them.

 

“Her name is Minerva McGonagall. She’s a…professor here.” Merlin explains carefully.

 

“A professor? Like a teacher?” Arthur asks and Merlin nods his head. “What does she teach?”

 

“Transfiguration.” Merlin blurts out stupidly. He slaps his hand over his mouth and mentally scolds himself.

 

“What?” Arthur narrows his eyes.

 

“It’s a type of…magic.” Merlin dejectedly explains. He might as well rip the bandage off now. “It allows you to transform into animals or animals into objects.”

 

Merlin can see the cogs in Arthur’s mind turning. His face changes from bewilderment to fear, then back to stoic, as he ponders the statement. He didn’t immediately burst out in a rage, which is a good sign; but his face looks as if he held a hundred more questions; and Merlin is absolutely obligated to answer all of them.

 

So they sat together on his couch, as Merlin explains in the simplest terms what Hogwarts is and what is used to be. Arthur doesn’t take everything well. Multiple times Merlin could see the anger seeping from his body, but he remained silent all the same. Only asking question by question.

 

“So you turned my castle into a playground for warlocks and sorceress?” Arthur finally says with a hint of venom at Merlin, as the old wizard finishes up the long tale.

 

“To be fair, I didn’t build this school. It has four founding members, long dead now. I simply gave them the foundation to build on.” Merlin retaliates.

 

“In my castle!” Arthur yells angrily.

 

Merlin couldn’t tell if he was angry at the fact that magic had invaded his homeland or if it was just because Arthur had lost the only recognizable home he’d ever known. It was easy to understand where his frustration is coming from, but Merlin still feels the need to defend himself all the same.

 

“Arthur, by the time those four asked for the land, your castle was in ruins and falling apart. I did what I could to keep it here, but it had to change or it would’ve been lost forever to the earth and time. The only other choice was to allow this place to become a national landmark; a museum in other words; but it would’ve been inaccessible to me and subsequently you. I thought this would be a better outcome.”

 

“I don’t even recognize it anymore,” Arthur says darkly.

 

“The idea wasn’t to have you recognize it,” Merlin says softly now, almost apologetically. “It was to have it last long enough for you to come back too.”

 

Arthur doesn’t say anything after that. He just sits with his brow lowered over his eyes and a small pout upon his lips. He is still angry, but it's not directed at Merlin, it’s just the situation.

 

“You know,” Merlin says quietly. “I was incredibly apprehensive at first. To let the magic world take over this place. So much is different, Arthur.” Merlin’s sighs and sinks a little further into the couch. “Not even magic is the same anymore.”

 

“How so?” Arthur can’t help but ask. He never had the chance to have this kind of talk with Merlin before. Magic still makes him apprehensive, but he meant what he said to him on the bank of the lake that day. He accepts all of Merlin; even the parts of him that scare Arthur.

 

“It's hard to explain,” Merlin replies. “Magic used to be so earthly, like a force of nature. It was commanded through ancient words and the strongest wills. Witches and Wizards cast spells with their entire being.” Merlin explains using his hands as an example. He stopped a moment, and Arthur saw Merlin’s expression change as he sank into the deepest corners of his memory.

 

“There was a resurgence of Uther’s laws and ideas a century after you died. Many kingdoms hunted down and eradicated any magic user that so much as breathed the word magic. Many of the druids fled underground for decades, but they were eventually found and dragged out of their caves and homes, then executed. They made the most gruesome examples for the people out of the druids.”

 

Arthur can sense how hard it is for Merlin to think back on this. Arthur could only imagine those poor peoples deaths. The horrid screams of the people his father burned came quickly back into his mind. He imagined Merlin on a pyre and the thought made him sick.

 

“That resurgence killed off the use of magic and even the belief of it, for many centuries. Even today, normal non-magic users don’t believe that magic is real. One man, and forgive me but memory falters sometimes so I don’t know his name, figured out he could harness magic through the use of a wand. Crafted from magical materials and creatures. That one discovery flooded magic back into the world, but it's been changed. It isn’t as strong as it used to be, people don’t connect with it as deeply anymore. It seems so much colder than I remember. It makes me feel like a fossil more than I already do.” Merlin hollowly laughs.

 

The laugh makes Arthur uncomfortable, the words too. Arthur never really realized just how old Merlin is, never thought about the long and endless life Merlin must have suffered while Arthur floated deep within the waters of Avalon; but the way he looks to Arthur now? Merlin’s age is completely visible and impossible to ignore and it hurt Arthur in a way he can’t explain. His eyes are so dull now, nearly gray than the blue Arthur remembers them shining as. He could see Merlin slipping into thought, his face looking far more aged than it had before.

 

“Merlin, how have you…how are you still alive?” Arthur fumbles on the question. Not sure how to approach the subject.

 

“I’m immortal,” Merlin says coldly. He doesn’t elaborate further. Merlin’s tone of voice and stern expression startled Arthur into a stunned silence. Merlin’s face softens when he notices it, and simply looks away.

 

Arthur begins to feel grateful that he had been dead all those years. He’d rather suffer a thousand years in oblivion, than watch as the world and its people moved on and died without you. Arthur feels ill imaging that life for Merlin, and he’s sure his imagination is nothing compared to the actual reality.

 

“Come on then!” Merlin says suddenly. Standing from the couch and offering his hand to Arthur. “We both yet to eat, and I’m sure you have quite the appetite.” Merlin paused for a second before adding. “You always did.”

 

Arthur doesn’t take Merlin’s hand, but he does stand with him, grateful for the change of subject.

 

“I swear Merlin even fifteen hundred years later, and you’re still calling me fat!” Arthur yelled.

 

“I said no such thing!” Merlin mockingly gaped at him and laughed.

 

He is still laughing when he disappears upstairs for a moment. Dressing in cleaner clothes, and brushing his hair back out of his face. He quickly grabs whatever decent outfit he thought would fit Arthur, and tosses them into the broader man's arms as he descends the stairs.

 

“What are these for?” Arthur asks pulling the shirt apart to see it better and sneering at the cloth.

 

“To wear?” Merlin raises an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t any food left in this dingy little tower, so we’ll have to go to the Great Hall for breakfast.”

 

“We’re going outside?” Arthur asks a little apprehensive.

 

“It’ll be fine,” Merlin reassures him. “You’ll need to leave here sooner or later, and getting some fresh air will help the both of us.” Merlin positions himself in a way that forces Arthur’s attention on him. Merlin stares gently into his eyes.

 

“I know everything’s different now, and confusing, and scary, but it’ll get better. You’ll come to love this place Arthur I’m sure.”

 

It didn’t reassure him in the slightest, but Arthur found a bit of his resolve in Merlin’s words.

 

“We’ll start slow.” Merlin continues. “A walk down the corridors and to the Great Hall. Then if you want we can roam around the castle awhile more, before my classes at noon.” Merlin checks the light filtering in through the window to see where the sun is setting and nods his head. “And if it's too much we’ll just come straight back here.”

 

Arthur nods, a little ashamed at himself that Merlin was so much calmer and level headed than him. He felt like a child being led around by their parent. Arthur quickly dresses in the new clothes. As his head pops through the collar of the shirt, Arthur focuses in on a particular confession Merlin just had.

 

“You have classes?” Arthur says unbelievably. “What idiot would be daft enough to allow you to teach a group of children?”

 

“Oh don’t worry, its just astronomy,” Merlin replied smiling. “I simply point out some stars and say their names, it’s easy.”

 

Arthur scoffs. Nothing Merlin does is easy. He could find a way to make sitting a chore.

 

Merlin had turned away to give Arthur some privacy to dress, and when he turns back around he’s quite pleased to see the clothes fit Arthur rather well, a little too well. Because of Merlin’s thinner frame, the baggier clothes on him stretched against Arthur’s skin snuggly. Even after centuries of being dead, no chiseled muscle had eroded away. Merlin paused to gape a little at him, before catching his stare and quickly looking away.

 

Now is not the time to approach those feelings, if there is ever time too.

 

“What’s wrong?” Arthur notices his tenseness.

 

“Nothing.” Merlin quickly replies. “Just glad you don’t look ridiculous in those clothes.”

 

“Better than you,” Arthur says haughtily.

 

Merlin hums a reply and heads for the door. As he reaches for the handle, he pauses as he remembers something.

 

“Oh, Arthur come here a moment,” Merlin says.

 

“You know I was the King right?” Arthur teases but drifts over to the door nonetheless.

 

“Yep,” Merlin says before rising two flat palms and slapping Arthur upside the temples with both his hands.

 

Arthur yelps and urges backward to distance himself from Merlin.

 

“What the hell!?” Arthur spits at Merlin as he holds his head offended. “What was that?”

 

“Sorry.” Merlin tries not to laugh. “I placed a Legilimency spell on your mind. It’ll let you understand the language of this time and country. Can you understand me now?”

 

“Yes!” Arthur shouts angrily. “You could’ve warned me!” As the last word left Arthur’s mouth it felt foreign though he understood it. He could tell it was a separate language, but the understanding of it was burning into the neurons of his brain. He started to fell a headache coming on.

 

“Here.” Merlin hands over a small piece of chocolate when he notices the small whence Arthur made. “This will help with the headache. It won’t last long.”

 

Arthur snatches it out of Merlin’s hand and starts nibbling on it defiantly. He decides not to ask why Merlin just has candy sitting around in his pockets.

 

“We should get going if we want time to walk the castle later.” Merlin remarks holding the door open for Arthur and looking expectantly at him.

 

Arthur takes a moment to let the pain of his head fade away into a dull ache. He breathes in a deep exhale and then walks briskly past Merlin and out into the corridor. Turning around to wait on his old servant to accompany him into what feels like a lion's den, but Merlin gives Arthur a small but familiar goofy smile as he closes the door behind him. The gesture makes Arthur feel more at ease. More ready to walk into whatever new world is awaiting him.


	7. Bittersweet

Arthur follows Merlin down the seemingly endless corridor, rubbing his head intermediately to dull the fading headache. He is walking beside Merlin stubbornly. Refusing to be led around like a child by a man who was once his manservant. To Arthur that feels like it was only days ago. When Merlin would loudly announce himself into Arthur’s chambers. He was all wide smiles, bright eyes, and limbs catering around his morning meal and drink. Voice leaking playful sarcasm and insolence.

 

This morning was so quiet and lonely when he awoke in the unfamiliar bed, surrounded by all of Merlin’s unfamiliar things. It was hard not to even consider Merlin himself unfamiliar, as Arthur steals small glances at his form.

 

He is still about an inch taller than Arthur is, but Merlin never really felt bigger back in Camelot. Merlin was always good at making himself look smaller and less intimidating. He would fold his shoulders in and lean forward just slightly to skew his height; but now Merlin stands completely upright, his shoulders flat and his spine straight as an arrow. He has his hands folded lazily behind his back as he takes long strides forward.

 

The clothes he’s wearing are also strange. The shirt looks like a tunic in a way, but more complex and tight, also a lot brighter blue than what a normal peasant would wear. Buttons are sewn all the way up to the collar, but Merlin has the last few unfastened and open. The ends of the shirt being firmly tucked into his breeches. Less of an inch of his skin in showing under his chin, because, and god help him, Merlin still fancies wearing those god-awful neckerchiefs. This one is black and tucked snuggly into the opening of his shirt. It looks smoother than his old ones were, more comfortable at least.

 

The only other peculiar piece is Merlin’s breeches. They aren’t anything like those torn and baggy brown pants Merlin used to wear in Camelot. These are black and tight around his legs and thighs, the ankles disappearing into some rather long black boots. They form his frame in a way Arthur’s never seen before. Merlin is still lanky, but he’s filled out a lot more. He’s maintained that muscle working for Gaius gave him all those years ago. He’s no longer that scrawny and skittish boy Arthur met that first time he ever had the displeasure of Merlin’s impertinence.

 

Arthur’s eyes couldn’t help but follow Merlin’s form as it moved ahead just slightly. Watching as the clothes moved with his body. Every taut muscle flexing as his legs carries him further away. Arthur even smiles fondly noticing Merlin's overly large ears still poking slightly out of his thick black hair. 

 

“Good morning Merlin!” A female called from somewhere unseen.

 

“Good morning,” Merlin replied.

 

“Good morning!” A different woman responds as well.

 

“Good morning.” Merlin laughs.

 

Arthur follows Merlin’s gaze to a painting on the wall. It was of a beautiful red hair maiden. Her peasant dress and apron, dirty from farm work, looks no less appealing on her than any royal gown would. She is getting water from a spout beside some sort of old barn.

 

It is clearly a painting, with brush strokes and bright acrylic colors, but the woman was moving. She bends over and whisks her pale of water into her arms, and greets Merlin as well. Her smile as bright and real as any persons would be.

 

“Lovely mornin’ Merlin?” She says in a thick Scottish accent.

 

“It’s always a lovely morning when I see you, Astrid.” Merlin stops briefly just for her. Her smile widens at the compliment.

 

“Always so sly ye old codger.” She replies playfully. “Well don’t mind me. I see ya have a lad with ya. Just drop by more often and keep us some company. Like old times.” She says and then disappears off the side of the canvas while waving kindly at Merlin and Arthur.

 

Merlin must have seen the bewilderment on Arthur’s face when he turns back towards him.

 

“I wouldn’t’ think too hard about it,” Merlin says to him. “ It’s an enchantment. Wizard and witches paint them and imbue them with magic. They aren’t real; they’re only really good at acting like they are.” Merlin explains.

 

“Was she a real person?” Arthur asks. “At some point at least?”

 

“Yes.” Merlin answers. “I knew the real Astrid a long time ago. She was a brilliant woman, headstrong and stubborn as a mule. She painted that image before she passed away. Said she wanted the world to see her for her merit and not just her beauty. That canvas doesn’t really do justice to either, in my opinion.” Merlin says somberly.

 

“Do they all know you?” Arthur asks to change the subject after watching Merlin’s eyes fade off into memory again.

 

“Oh good heavens, no” Merlin slightly chuckles at that. “There are hundreds of these paintings in Hogwarts. A couple may recognize me here and there, but most just do what they’ve been taught to do.”

 

Arthur nods his head in understanding. It was strange, but it is also curious, and that makes it less threatening in a way.

 

Merlin was right though. Most of the paintings ignore the men as they pass corridor by corridor. Some people even jump canvas from canvas, and it amazes Arthur as he watches them do it.

 

Merlin is peeking at him thoughtfully. No doubt worried about Arthur’s biases on magic and how he will react to an environment filled with it. Arthur remains as calm as possible. The paintings aren’t overwhelming, there even fun in a way, and he wants to prove to Merlin in some way that it's fine.

 

That he’s fine.

 

They're fine.

 

When they finally start to come up on the Great Hall Arthur notices the immediate change in atmosphere. The air is thick with the scent of food and spice and it made his mouth water. He can hear people chatting from the room, and the air just feels warmer, and more full than it had before.

 

Merlin is walking a bit brisker now and Arthur is trying to keep up. They are about to turn into the hall itself.

 

“Professor!” A voice calls out and stops both of them dead at the double doors. “Professor Emrys!”

 

A young girl pops up around the corner and walks hastily over to Merlin. Her thick curly and messy hair bobs up and down with her steps and she stops right beside Arthur but looking directly at Merlin, paying Arthur no mind at all.

 

“Good Morning Ms. Granger,” Merlin says to her.

 

“Good Morning Professor,” She repeats back. “I just…I wanted to make sure you’re alright. The other night when you ran off, I got really worried. I told McGonagall, and maybe I shouldn’t have.” Granger looks at the floor mildly embarrassed, a small pinkish hue upon her cheeks.

 

“You just looked so scared, and Harry and Ron kept speculating and made it even worse.” She rambles on. It reminds Arthur of when Merlin talks too much to.

 

“It’s alright Hermione,” Merlin says gently and with a soft smile. “You did the right thing, and I’m thankful you cared enough to worry about me.”

 

Merlin’s smile, infectious as it’s always been, spreads to Hermione who grins a little at his words. She just nods her head and mutters a quick “You’re welcome”, and then hurries off into the hall. Merlin watches her leave, the smile fading from his thin lips as she disappears behind the doorframe.

 

“They call you Emrys here?” Arthur asks him as he recalled her words.

 

“After a certain period of time I could no longer go by Merlin safely,” Merlin explains. “I never really liked the name Emrys, but I’m not creative enough to think of anything else more fitting than it.” He says laughing.

 

“Very few people know me by my real name nowadays.” He adds after a thoughtful pause.

 

“Morgana called you that too,” Arthur says as a foggy and painful memory comes to mind.

 

“It was what the druids called me,” Merlin replies automatically. “I have many names Arthur, but Merlin is the only one I care to keep. It was what my mother named me, so it’s the only name that matters.”

 

Arthur nods his reply and concedes the point. Merlin seems to have more walls put up around him than he did back in Camelot, and that’s saying something considering Merlin managed to hide his magic from him for decades, and as much as Arthur wants to rip them down and ask every question that comes to mind and demand Merlin give him answers, he also doesn’t want Merlin to shut off from him completely. They both are tittering on a very precarious edge and Merlin is the only person he has left.

 

It strange hearing people call him Emrys however because it’s a name Arthur never knew him by. It was another reminder of the person Merlin hid from him and while he understands why it still hurts and even angers Arthur the longer he thinks on it.

 

There isn’t a lot of patience left in Arthur, but this all needs time and he’ll try to give Merlin as much as he needs.

 

Merlin saw it fit to enter the hall now, and as they passed under the door the sight of it stole Arthur’s breathe away. Candles floating in mid-air, hundreds of children were all scattered amongst the longest and beautifully crafted tables he’s ever seen. Different colored flags hung from the banisters and food and drinks of all kind flooded each table to the brim like a feast.

 

“Come this way.” Merlin leads Arthur through the narrow walkways between the tables and approaches a small stage where more adults have gathered around and are enjoying their morning meal amongst their coworkers.

 

The layout reminds Arthur of his throne room, but longer in its design. He ponders whether or not Merlin built this room with it in mind. As they approach, some heads turn and greet Merlin, while a few look quizzically at Arthur.

 

“Emrys!” A very short and contorted man, creature perhaps, calls to Merlin.

 

“Flitwick,” Merlin says.

 

“Good to see you, my boy. What kept you yesterday?” Flitwick asks as he sets down a goblet of something.

 

“Many things, but they're not important.” Merlin brushes over any details. “I want you to met my friend Arthur,” Merlin says motioning a hand to the man. Arthur nods his head in hello.

 

“Good to see you.” He says, and a few other professors jump in to greet Arthur as well. Flitwick coughs loudly in his throat to get the attention back on him. “What is he here for? Hogwarts doesn’t get too many outside visitors.”

 

“He’s going to start working here for a short while.”

 

“As a professor?” A thicker and heavier set woman asks almost incredulously.

 

“No, Ms. Spout, as a groundskeeper and the sort.” Merlin quickly corrects her. “He’s much more brawn than brain.” Merlin looks back at Arthur with a very particular glint in his eye.

 

“Makes me wonder why you’re a professor then, considering you lack both,” Arthur replied defiantly, earning a warm smile from Merlin and tight feeling in his chest.

 

“Uh-ho!” Flitwick laughs. Even Spout was chuckling silently into her mitten hands.

 

“I look forward to working with you all,” Arthur says suddenly and smoothly, particularly towards Ms. Spout.

 

“Oh, you’re delightful.” She says feigning embarrassment.

 

“You hear that _Mer_ …” But Arthur quickly catches himself and says. “ _Emrys_? I’m brawny and delightful.” Merlin smirked at Arthur’s flub of his name.

 

“You’re insufferable is what you are,” Merlin says.

 

The teachers laugh for a moment, before divulging back into their previous conversations and meal. Arthur and Merlin take a more secluded seat at the end of the table and Merlin immediately went for a cup and pitcher. He pours a dark and steaming liquid into it, and takes a long swig from the drink and sighing fondly after.

 

Intrigued Arthur reaches for the same pitcher, but Merlin’s hand grasps his wrist before he gets a good grip on its handle.

 

“I wouldn’t Arthur,” Merlin says. “Coffee has a bit of a _required_ taste.”

 

“Hands off.” Arthur shakes free from Merlin’s grip. The warlock pulls his hand back easily but still gives Arthur a disapproving frown as Arthur continues to pour himself a drink.

 

“I’m serious Arthur I don’t think you’ll like it.”

 

“And what would you know of _my_ likes?” Arthur dissents, raising the cup to his mouth.

 

He takes a small sip, not completely arrogant enough to try and down this foreign liquid just to prove himself to Merlin, of all people. The feeling was pleasant at first. The warmth relaxed his tongue and muscles almost immediately, but then this atrocious and bitter taste washed over his senses and Arthur nearly hurled the drink onto the table.

 

Pure stubbornness kept Arthur from spitting this coffee out of his mouth. He could already see the smirk forming on Merlin’s lips, the lopsided grin he sometimes got when he thought he was being particularly clever and Arthur wouldn’t be caught dead saying Merlin was right and he was wrong. Especially considering the fact Merlin knew he wouldn’t like it.

 

“It's not too bitter then?” Merlin asks facetiously, grinning from ear to ear the longer Arthur keeps the drink stored in his cheeks.

 

Arthur shakes his head, and forces the liquid down his throat, coughing a bit at the burn. “No, it's great.” He says through gritted teeth. “The best thing I’ve ever had. Not at all abhorrently bitter and disgusting.”

 

“Not that it matters, because you love it so much, but it would be less bitter if you added some sugar and cream,” Merlin says playfully sliding two small glass pots over to Arthur, all while still sniggering.

 

Arthur pops the lid off of both the dishes and poured a reckless amount into the cup. Luckily the second taste wasn’t as awful, and the sugar really did help with the bitterness, but it still left an unpleasant tang in Arthur’s mouth after every drink. How did Merlin stand this stuff? He didn’t even add any sweetener!

 

As Arthur was lapping the drink off his lips Merlin slid a plate full of food over to Arthur, which he pulled while Arthur was distracted with the coffee. It appears to be some bread rolls and ham, and an assortment of fruits. Things Arthur recognizes and has no problem shoving generously into his mouth. It was delicious, fit for a King back in Camelot.

 

Merlin is partaking in a small plate himself. It only had a handful of things on it, and most of it was fruit; but Arthur remembers Merlin having an equally active appetite as Arthur, so the small plate was an odd thing to see. He isn’t eating fast either, rather slowly picking at his plate and seems much more attracted to the coffee than any of the delights spread out before him.

 

Merlin takes a quick glance at Arthur under the rim of his cup as he takes another sip, and Arthur quickly averts his gaze elsewhere. He casts his eyes over the hall and watches some of the children talk amongst themselves in their small groups. He notices some of them are wearing different colored robs, and ponders the meaning behind that. This school was extraordinary, and Arthur hasn’t even really seen it in full action. He’s only seen this many people gathered at large banquets of visiting king and nobles, and even then, this student body could threaten even a small kingdom's army.

 

Arthur tries not to think about the fact every single one these kids are learning to use magic. Merlin had told him that young witches and wizards learn just about everything in schools like this. Like spells, values, and character building. It is hidden away from what Merlin called the non-magi, for lack of a better or less insulting word. He didn’t say what that word is.

 

He even vaguely talked about magic folk having their own government and jobs specifically for their world. Creatures and human’s co-existing to build a world where they feel more welcomed and less threatened. Arthur supposes it’s not a surprise that after so many years, magic is still considered dangerous, but a small part of him wishes that the world would have moved on.

 

Had become better.

 

Better than Uther and better than him.

 

Merlin deserves better than this.

 

Merlin didn’t give specific details, and a part of Arthur sensed that Merlin just didn’t know them, rather than trying to keep them from him. Which, considering Merlin’s evolvement, Arthur thought he’d be more inclined to be a part of a world literally run by magic than hide away from it. He did say he was apprehensive about it. Arthur begins to wonder why.

 

“It's getting a little later in the day,” Merlin says suddenly staring at the ray of light casting from the stained glass windows behind him. “Do you want to walk around for a bit, before my classes start?”

 

“Some fresh air would be nice,” Arthur replies. Merlin smiles softly at him and stands up from his seat.

 

They both wave their goodbyes to the other professors and head out of the Great Hall. Merlin leads Arthur to the enormously large gateway. There really isn’t any other way to describe these doors. They’re already slightly open when they pass under them. Some children are rushing about past them when they finally turn and enter into the large field of greenery. Arthur recognizes the rolling hills and open land ahead of him. Most of it was farmland that surrounded the outskirts of his castle.

 

Merlin leads him to a specific courtyard situated around a tower. The walls here look older. Most of the stones have eroded away, and the entire area was draped in a darker brown than the rest of the castle.

 

The plants are still resting for the winter, but they still maintain their bright green hues and tones, lighting up the yard in a beautiful way. Arthur gets excited at the thought of seeing it during the spring.

 

Merlin takes a break from walking on one of the old cobblestone walls that surround a flowerbed. He looks for a moment at Arthur, with an unreadable expression.

 

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” Merlin says finally, looking away from him. “If it’ll help you can ask me anything Arthur.”

 

Arthur didn’t feel like that was entirely true, but he didn’t say that aloud. Yes, he has a _lot_ of questions. About Hogwarts, about magic, but more importantly and the most prevalent are the questions about Merlin. His life here and the life he had in Camelot, and even though Merlin has quite literally opened the door for him Arthur just can’t settle on one question.

 

It takes a moment and a long awkward silence, but Arthur figures he’ll start off small.

 

“Do you have any family?” Arthur asks, taking a seat next to Merlin. “Like a wife or grandchildren?”

 

Merlin seems slightly taken aback by the question. Arthur knows he expected something more monumental or complex.

 

“No.” Merlin replies after composing himself.

 

“Why not, you’ve had plenty of time,” Arthur says teasingly, but he was honestly surprised by the stern and quick answer.

 

“Even if I wanted too I can’t have children,” Merlin explains. “I’m sterile. A nice little side effect of my magic.” Well, that just opens up an entirely different line of questions.

 

“Your magic?” Arthur asks confused. “What does your magic have to do with that?”

 

“It’s a part of my immortality,” Merlin replies, and thankfully without the harshness, he had the last time he spoke of it. “My magic is constantly regenerating my body. Healing itself over and over again, even without the need of it. It slows down my aging process. My magic heals any disease and mortal wound faster than it can kill me.”

 

“For some reason, it also sterilizes my body and makes producing children impossible. I never really found out why.” Merlin admits.

 

“Then why didn’t you marry just to be with someone?” Arthur changes the question. “To keep you company?”

 

“Arthur I’ve only ever had two loves in my life, and I’ve never felt the need or drive to seek out more,” Merlin says a bit weary. “Besides, its never easy outliving the people you love.”

 

Those words hit Arthur deep, and he's trying his best not to imagine everyone around Merlin, Gaius, Gwen, or anyone, eventually withering away, old and fragile until death takes them. Merlin never took loss well. Arthur thought he’d never see Merlin’s smile again after they lost Lancelot that one awful and dark night; and the memory still sends a shiver through Arthur’s body, cold and numbing.

 

So Arthur instead remembers Guinevere and how they would bicker every now and again over Merlin. They always wondered at the fact that the servant had never courted a woman or even tried to. Gwen was sure it was because Arthur ran Merlin ragged and that if he had the time, Merlin could land just about any woman he wanted. Arthur had just suspected it was a lack of skill on Merlin’s part, but now that he thinks about it he’s never seen Merlin flirt with anyone. He’s always been kind to women, and chatty, but that’s just Merlin. He’s that way with everyone. He’s never singled out a particular person to dote over.

 

“So you’ve never…uh, you know?” Arthur finds himself asking aloud, causing Merlin to quirk an eyebrow at him and smile teasingly.

 

“Yes Arthur, I’ve had sex,” Merlin says laughing. “Good lord you prudish nobles. Love and sex aren’t always correlated. “

 

“I’m not prudish!” Arthur defensively says, smacking Merlin’s arms. “It chivalrous.”

 

“Ahhh, I see.” Merlin exaggerates. “The Knights Code.”

 

“Come on Arthur! So you’ve never laid with Gwen once. The entire time you weren’t married?”

 

“Never,” Arthur says crossing his arms. “Guinevere was a lady worthy of respect.”

 

“I don’t see what respect has to do with sex if she wanted too?” Merlin refutes. “I also don’t see how snogging her on a picnic, in the middle of the woods, is any less _disrespectful_ than just having relations with her?”

 

“Shut up Merlin,” Arthur says quickly and sternly, his face growing increasingly hot and red. Merlin just laughs in response, but he drops the subject much to Arthur’s relief.

 

They sit at this moment a few seconds longer, feeling the cool winter breeze blow idly past them before Arthur speaks again.

 

“What happened to Guinevere?” Arthur asks solemnly as he remembers her. “After I…after I was gone.”

 

The memory of Gwen prodded at Arthur’s heart painfully. The fact of never seeing her again, waking up to her beside him, and seeking her wise counsel and loving arms, made tears start to form at the corner of his eyes. He held them back and forced himself to listen to what Merlin has to say. For the sake of respecting her life. 

 

“A few months after what happened at Camlann Guinevere had found out about my talents and the actions I did during the war.” Merlin starts with a suppressed sadness in his voice. Arthur thinks about the old wizard on the mountain. Calling forth lightning from the skies like a God, both enthralling and freighting all at once.

 

“She held counsel and lifted the ban on magic in Camelot. She appointed me her court wizard and gave me a spot on the council as a head advisor. It was kind and humbling.” Merlin said a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks.

 

“After those few years, however, I can’t tell you much else. She married Leon and had two boys. I never got to see them. She held that Kingdom up on her shoulders and did the best she could. Her children and family line carried Camelot as far as it could go.”

 

“That’s all you know?” Arthur asks.

 

“Yes.” Merlin answers. “After the first five years, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. The fourth year after your death my mother passed away from a violent illness. I didn’t get to her on time. I buried her in her favorite spot in the garden, on a cold spring day.” Arthur saw the tears drip unashamedly down Merlin’s cheeks.

 

“Four months after that, Gaius passed as well. I started to hate that cold and empty tower and no reassuring words from Gwen or anyone else helped. I started to second guess why I was even in Camelot in the first place.”

 

“It was your home, Merlin.” Arthurs frustratingly says.

 

“It was.” Merlin agreed. “But at the time it felt more like a prison. My destiny and everything I was told I was supposed to be had died that day on the bank of Avalon.” Merlin trembles. “I had no more reasons to stay and little willpower to try. I was a coward and so I ran.”

 

“I disappeared into the deepest parts of the woods after resigning my position as court sorcerer and bidding Guinevere and the Knights one last farewell. They looked for me for months, but I never let them find me. The last time I saw or spoke to Guinevere was on her deathbed, old and tired; but having lived a good life.”

 

“Where did you go?” Arthur asks stunned. Though he is happy to hear that Guinevere was happy. Even if it all happened without him. 

 

“I built a small tower in the forest. Surrounded the area with protective wards and spells that hid its true location. I turned into an absolute hermit, for a couple of centuries at least, and only went into towns when absolutely necessary and never as myself. I grew my own food and herbs and I started to shelter magical creatures when they needed it; nymphs, spriggans, gnomes, godlings, fairies, and the like. It's still there, probably a bit tattered now, but it’s still a nice home for the magical folk or me whenever I feel the need to return.”

 

“No one ever found it?” Arthur asks.

 

“No. It can only be found by those who need it most.” Merlin says cryptically.

 

“I can’t believe you just disappeared.” Arthur resentfully says. “What if Gwen needed you? What if Camelot needed you?”

 

Merlin doesn’t answer him. His eyes go dark and the agony of his age shows starkly in his features once again. Its clear Merlin’s been asking himself those same questions, probably for centuries. Merlin takes a long inhale and holds the air for a few seconds before releasing it back out of his lungs.

 

“I’m sorry.” Merlin achingly says.

 

Arthur immediately wants to apologize. He wants to make this better and realizes he has absolutely no right to judge Merlin, but he doesn’t say anything. He never says anything, and the cycle of Arthur’s cowardice frustrates him eternally. He can never just say what he means to Merlin. Not like he could do with his knights. He never told Merlin about his endearment for the man, his respect and dependency on his company and advise.

 

In moments like this where its raw and open, and Arthur has the chance to speak his feelings aloud, something always stops him and Arthur knows it’s a fear and anxiety that’s been with him for years; but he could never place what precisely it is, and even now where both of them are, perhaps, at their most vulnerable; he can’t say the words. He can’t even apologize.

 

Merlin isn’t looking at him anymore. Fearful and what he might see on Arthur’s face, while Arthur is afraid of what he’ll see on Merlin’s. So they both stare forward with the unresolved tension between them. Watching the grass sway in the breeze.

 

The loud and startling sound of a bell echoes through the yard and Merlin’s slowly stands on his feet.

 

“My classes will be starting soon,” He says suddenly tired. “I’ll walk you back to the tower.”

 

“I don’t want to go back to the tower,” Arthurs says. Merlin peers at Arthur from the corner of his eye.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin starts to say.

 

“I’m not going back to the tower.” Arthur dictates. “I’ll just accompany you to this class of yours.”

 

“You want to come to my class?” Merlin’s says now looking at Arthur with a perplexed expression.

 

“Its better than the tower.” Is all Arthur says before brushing past Merlin and back towards the castle. “You said I’d come to love this place. I can’t do that if you don’t show me how.”

 

Then for the first time since Arthur woke up from the lake, he saw a genuine, warm, and hopeful smile on Merlin’s lips. The endearing crinkles around his eyes distinct as it grew on his face.

 

“Alright,” Merlin speaks happily. Accompanying Arthur back up the yard, his smile never faltering the entire way up to the doors; and Arthur found himself wishing it’d never leave.

 


	8. My Star

Merlin is preparing his classroom for the students about to take their seats for the afternoon lesson. He’s spreading the desks out towards the wall, leaving a wide-open space in the very center of the room. Arthur is quietly watching him from the professor’s chair. Leaning back and propping his feet up onto the desk. He’s clearly comfortable, and even curiously swiveling and bending the chair testing its flexibility.

 

Merlin ignores him as he finishes up, but he can’t but help smile at Arthur anyway. He’s never had this before, a chance to show Arthur something different and amazing. It wasn’t just an opportunity to flex his magic, but space generally excites Merlin. It was the only thing that is completely unexplored and unknown even to him.

 

Back in the medieval times, there was little information on astronomy in particular. Most people were too poor or overworked to concern themselves with the stars and what lies far beyond the sky. Kings and nobles diddled about unconcerned for anything immediately out of their own benefit. The moon was only ever discussed in poetry to compare it to the beauty of a fair maiden, and never why or what it was or where it came from. The science was there, but vastly unrecognized.

 

As Merlin aged and adapted to the coming and going of historical periods, his curiosity for the veil amplified. He would go out of his way to read about and meet new astronomers. He has a massive collection of every type of research paper and novel ever written on the subject. When the United States was holding the race to the moon, it was possibly the only time Merlin felt a rush of life again since Camelot. The prospect of traversing space was enthralling, and it is one of the things that helps Merlin keep himself stable. It makes him feel small and more importantly human.

 

“What exactly are you doing?” Arthur asks as Merlin checks over the area one final time.

 

“Setting up for a demonstration,” Merlin replies quickly. “I need as much space as possible.”

 

Merlin kicks one last desk out of the way, widening the center a little bit more, and decides its good enough. His foot, however, catches on the armrest and he nearly tumbles to the ground trying to wiggle free. He hears Arthur snort behind him when he finally regains his posture.

 

“Nice to know some things haven't changed.” Merlin hears Arthur mumble behind him. Merlin gives a quick hard glare but finds his attention being drawn to the students suddenly entering the classroom.

 

Merlin hastily greets them and huddles them to the eye of the room, each kid sitting down befuddled; some mumbling to friends, and Ms. Hollow excitedly shaking her knee up and down in anticipation, watching Merlin intently.

 

“Arthur, please come join us.” Merlin ushers for Arthur to come to him. He does so, but not without a strained and exaggerated sigh. “Arthur will be sitting in on our class today, you needn’t pay him any mind.”

 

Arthur sits on the outside of the jumbled circle of children. Not to close to anyone, but near enough to watch Merlin do whatever it is he’s doing.

 

“Now,” Merlin says clasping his hands together. “The first few weeks in this class covered the constellations. Intriguing in their own right, but you can only learn so much reading from dusty old books and parchment.”

 

Merlin places his hand inside the fold of his shirt and pulls out a small, marble-sized, sphere. It is clear as water, and Merlin can make out the shifting shapes of his student reflections through it.

 

“We don’t have the luxury of the night sky as a demonstration for the location of these constellations, what stars make them up, and what exactly they look like,” Merlin says, walking back and forth, tapping the sphere lightly as he continues to explain. “Now I know astronomy can get boring. The math becomes tedious, your eyes become dry-looking into your telescopes at far and quite smudgy planets’ and stars, and gods curse whoever is in charge of naming these damn things.”

 

Merlin stops now, holding the tiny globe firmly between his index finger and thumb.

 

“However, there is nothing more awe-inspiring and tremendous as the stars and what lies beyond them.” Merlin snaps his fingers on his other hand, and all the light seeps out of the room leaving everyone in the pitch black. A few students gasp at the sudden and unexpected magic, and even Arthur himself flinches as the darkness envelops him.

 

“This room is a representation of the space that occupies our universe.” Merlin snaps his fingers again. A chill, like a winters breeze, settles onto the class. Gooseflesh rises on the children’s arms, and if they were able to see, everyone could make out their breath like a fog. They all start to shiver. “Space has a no effective way of creating heat. It’s roughly two point seven Kelvin up there, far below the point of freezing. There is no atmosphere to allow molecules to bounce around producing heat, and because of this space also lacks air.”

 

“Now dark, suffocating, and cold as it is, if you were floating around the depths of the universe, and still living, you’d at least have this…” In the darkness, a tiny orange light blinks on like a bulb between Merlin's fingers.

 

The glow of the light casting harsh shadows upon his cheeks and eyes. He lets go of the sphere, now glowing a vibrant orange, floats from the wizard’s hand and into the middle of the room above the students and Arthur’s heads. Merlin can just make out Arthur’s intense and undivided attention on the orb. His mouth slightly agape and his eyes wide as a child’s as he watches it gently rotate and orbit around the room.

 

It slowly grows to the size of a basketball, and the surface starts to bubble and melt the glass, and then burst into the brilliant and violent atmosphere of the sun. The bright red and yellow hues basking Arthurs skin and hair into a nearly angelic glow.

 

“A star.” Merlin gently says watching Arthur with a smile.

 

“The universe is filled with them. They glow different colors, vary in sizes, burn at different temperatures, and are often the centerpiece of orbiting solar systems like our own.” Merlin touches the star, and suddenly more flicker on out of the shadows. Some glowing blue, others purple, pinks, or reds. “Our own sun is a star. Its heat provides us warmth and light. Each constellation is made up of a group of thousands of these stars. All of them light-years away, and some of this light you see here?” Merlin taps a blue orb gently with his fingernail. The surface of it reacting to the touch by bursting and warping around his finger like it is an intruding asteroid.

 

“Aren’t even there anymore.” He says, the orb flickering out, and falling to the ground with a loud thump; rolling over to Mrs. Hollow’s foot. However, she is too enamored with the lecture to pay it any mind.

 

“Its light is taking so long to reach us, the life cycle of the star has already come and gone. Stars share a life very similar to our own. They are born in large, cold clouds of dust and gas called nebula’s.” Merlin takes a large inhale then blows the air out into the room. His exhale breathes in the light from the orbs, and shifts and settles between some stars and the vacant space around them, each glowing magnificent browns and gold. “Stars burn the rest of their lives. Then depending on the size, it is also dependant on how they die. They each leave something behind, something new and wonderful, but forever changed.”

 

One star furthest to the left of the room from where Merlin is standing suddenly starts to vibrate violently. It grows and grows until its nearly three heads larger than it was. It’s light now burning a hot and vicious red, the surface boiling over like lava and spitting pieces of itself out into the space of the room. The spark causes some children to jump and move away from the inherently harmless illusion.

 

Then suddenly, it explodes. A few students blinked and missed the beginning of it, but the aftermath of the melting blues, orange, and reds as the energy of the star spread outwards surrounding the entire classroom in its heat and vibrancy, is impossible not to see.

 

“This is a supernova,” Merlin states, fanning his hand through the air and dispelling the illusion. Waving the effect off like smoke. “This is one death of a star. Stars near the end of their life when they lose all the hydrogen its been burning off. They expand outwards, becoming larger as it nears the final stage in its evolution. When it finally gets there the star shoots all of its energy out into a supernova, and collapses into itself; usually creating what is dubbed a white dwarf afterward.”

 

As he says the name, Merlin grabs a hold of the white corpse left over from the star between his forefinger and thumb.

 

“Lovely and unique little things, but we’ll go over these another day,” Merlin says depositing the small sphere back into his shirts pocket. “Now there are a few other ways for stars to die, but _the_ most unique and fascinating is when massive stars die because those have a chance of becoming black holes,” Merlin says excitedly. “Terrifying, invisible beasts of the void. Black holes have gravity so immense it pulls in everything that gets caught up in its gravitational force, that not even light can escape, and the formation is just phenomenal!”

 

Suddenly a bell rang out across the castle, and as if someone had hit a switch the lights had returned to the room, the air was warming, and Merlin’s spheres fall to the ground like a bag of marbles.

 

“Oh, I afraid that’s the bell,” Merlin says disappointed. “We’ll pick up this discussion tomorrow. I want you all to read chapters thirty through thirty-six. I’ll have a short quiz on stars ready for you.”

 

Most of the students take a moment to jostle out of the hypnotic mirage Merlin had put forth. They blink their eyes and shake their heads, and lazily pull themselves up from the floor. A little disheartened and slow. Mrs. Hollow was practically skipping as she left the classroom, and it made Merlin grin at her youthful enthusiasm.

 

He is crouching down, picking up the remaining spheres on the hardwood floor when Arthur finally speaks up.

 

“That was….” Arthur pauses as if searching for the right words. “Amazing? Unlike…just unlike anything…”

 

“I’m glad,” Merlin says honestly, letting Arthur know he understands what he means.

 

“Is all that true?” Arthur asks.

 

“Yes, hard to believe I’m sure, but it's all really there. Took a long time to find it all, and their still finding stuff.” Merlin answers, blowing gently on one globe and rubbing it against his shirt to clean the dust off. “Its an entirely new and strange world up there.”

 

“You know,” Arthur says softly and carefully. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you…be _you_ since I’ve woken up.”

 

Merlin doesn’t know how to respond to that. He doesn’t disagree, but he can’t quite say he’s sorry either. Merlin isn’t the same man Arthur knew all those years ago. He just isn’t and there is no possible way he could be, but it still prods at Merlin’s heart for Arthur to call attention to it.

 

He can see Arthur looking at him expectantly like he wants a reply, but Merlin just shrugs his shoulders and keeps his head turned away from him. He can hear Arthur scoff at him, but he continues to ignore him nonetheless.

 

Merlin finishes the cleanup and leads Arthur back out into the hallway. The sun is sitting lower in the sky. The trees have already started to lose their yellows and oranges as winter is fast approaching, and the evenings started to show it more harshly. The brick of the school was chill and the student and professors alike are dressing in more layers to keep warm.

 

Before his class Merlin popped back into his tower and had Arthur wait in his classroom, to grab a coat and pull himself a bit more together. He didn’t bother with his hair, and just let the thick black locks lay where they pleased. He swears in his age they’ve gotten thicker. Then ends now curl around and stick out in every direction if he doesn’t style it properly. It didn’t look bad per se, but sometimes he feels like a birds nest. He trimmed his beard and pondered a good long minute whether or not he should shave it off completely.

 

He assumes it will make Arthur feel more comfortable since he never sported a beard in Camelot, but he decides against it. The sooner they both move on from the past the better it will be. Besides he likes his facial hair. It’s as black as his hair and frames his face rather nicely. It’s not too thick and thin enough to hug the curves of his jaw and cheeks without looking too straggly either.

 

Now Merlin is draped in his long black coat, hair disheveled, and cheeks and ears reddening from the cold as he walks with Arthur towards the hall for dinner.

 

“I’ll need to buy you new clothes.” Merlin thinks aloud looking at Arthur. “I don’t have enough baggy shirts or pants to fit you.”

 

“I swear to God Merlin if you’re calling me f…”

 

“No!” Merlin starts laughing. “No, I just mean I’m small compared to you.”

 

Arthur glares at him, but looks over Merlin’s form a quick moment and nods his head.

 

“Good.” He replies. “You’re clothes are tight anyway. Not to mention long! It’s like your torso is half a mile tall!” Arthur exaggerates by tugging down the hem of Merlin’s shirt on his chest. The end did sit past his waist and more towards his thigh, but it was hardly noticeable.

 

“Then tuck it in!” Merlin fires back.

 

Arthur just looks at Merlin like he was nuts for daring suggest Arthur tuck in his shirt. Arthur moves closer and shoves Merlin off to the side of him. Merlin attempts to shove him back, but Arthur easily dodges and it causes Merlin to nearly trip into the wall.

 

“Oh, you’re such a prat!” Merlin spits at a chuckling Arthur.

 

“For a powerful wizard, you sure do have awful reflexes, Merlin,” Arthur says dodging another clumsy attack from the warlock.

 

“I’m old,” Merlin excuses. “I can be as clumsy as I want!”

 

Arthur’s lips thin as he just shakes his head disappointingly as his servant. Arthur shoves him again for good measure and laughs heartily at the contorted agitated face Merlin points his way. Merlin stands upright, points his nose to the ceiling and begins to walk away from the needless assault on his person.

 

“Oh come on.” Arthur laughs between each pause of breath. “Couldn’t you just throw me to the wall or something with your magic?”

 

Merlin stops suddenly and turns to Arthur with a very serious and stern expression, before replying.

 

“Never.”

 

Arthur doesn’t say anything after that, his face falling from its joyous look and pinning Merlin with a surprised and longing one instead. Merlin doesn’t follow up the reply and continues to walk down the corridor as normal. He can hear Arthur start trailing after him and even possibly jogging to catch up with Merlin’s long strides.

 

“Why?” Arthur simply asks and Merlin peers over at him with an apathetic stare. “Why wouldn’t you?” Arthur is more aggressive now, not letting the matter go.

 

“I don’t like using magic that way,” Merlin answers honestly. “Especially not on you.”

 

“But you have?” Arthur questions.

 

“I’ve used magic to defend myself yes,” Merlin says. “Or defend other people.”

 

“No, not that.” Arthur quickly brushes away the answer. “On me. Have you ever used magic on me?”

 

“No never…ugh,” Merlin bites his lip at an intrusive memory. “Well there was one time when I turned you into a simpleton, but it was for the best.”

 

“The best?” Arthur yells angrily.

 

“It really was!” Merlin says defensively, even caving his body into itself to prepare for a physical blow. “It only lasted a day, and it saved our hides as I remember.”

 

Merlin can tell Arthur thought about hitting him, and maybe he nearly did, but Arthur just grunts out his irritation instead.

 

“Any other times?” Arthur hisses through gritted teeth.

 

“No,” Merlin says. “Unless you count that fight we had around the time we first met.”

 

“I knew it!” Arthur yells at him again furious. “I knew you were up to something during that fight.”

 

“I don’t know why you’re so angry, you still won it,” Merlin says dully.

 

“I narrowly didn’t,” Arthur confesses. “Can’t believe I didn’t notice it then.”

 

“I’m glad you didn’t.” Merlin softly laughs. “You would’ve had my head on a pike.”

 

Arthur gives Merlin a very hard to read expression. It looks like something between anger and regret. Arthur’s head bends down to look at the floor and kicks up the dust there.

 

“Did you actually believe I would have?” He asks softly.

 

“During that time, yes,” Merlin replies.

 

“And after that?”

 

“I…I don’t know,” Merlin admits. “Somewhere along the line, my priorities changed. I went from protecting my own head to protecting your heart.”

 

Arthur is quite a moment. Thinking, as they still walked along the corridor towards the Great Hall. They are close now. Merlin can smell the aromas of the kitchen, and here the faint chattering of people all gathered around their tables. This castle is brimming with life, but the only person Merlin can seem to focus on is Arthur.

 

“All those opportunities you had to change my mind, and you never took them?” Arthur suddenly says right as the two approach the halls great doors.

 

“It wasn’t that many,” Merlin answers him in a hushed tone, but a little surprised at the turn of conversation. “Besides, it wasn’t easy. I wanted too, believe me, but something always seemed far more important.”

 

“More important than your freedom?” Arthur asks flabbergasted.

 

“Obviously so.” Merlin’s sighs.

 

He doesn’t want to think back on those times. Merlin’s decisions ultimately lead to where they both are now. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t; except that one time with those cruel and deceiving hags from the forest, the _Disir_. Merlin had never felt an anger boil inside him as harshly as it did for them that day.

 

He won’t mention to Arthur how he hypocritically went back to that damn cave nearly two hundred years after his death and killed all three of those crones. It was a dark time, and he was in a severely dark place, but even now with clarity Merlin will stand by the fact that the world is better off without the all-powerful judgment of three soothsayers. He shouldn’t have killed them, he’ll admit, but he does not mourn their loss.

 

Merlin doesn’t give Arthur a chance to respond and heads into the hall. Arthur will stop letting Merlin escape like this. He’ll reach a point where Arthur will pin him down and make him talk everything out; but as long as Merlin can avoid trudging up anymore-bad memories, he’ll continue deflecting as long as he can.

 

“Professor!” A student calls out to him as he passes by one of the long tables. “Professor Emrys!”

 

It is Ms. Hollow, crushed together with her fellow Gryffindors’. Potter and Weasley are sat next to her, grumbling about something together, but lord knows what it is. Merlin's pause allows Arthur to catch up to him, and he is none too pleased with him. His face is red and expression aghast.  

 

“Merlin, for Christ sake will you just…” Arthur starts to say.

 

“Professor?” Ms. Hollow says again with less bravado. It distracts Arthur for the moment as well.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Hollow?” Merlin responds quickly.

 

“Oh…I..I’m sorry.” She says losing any confidence she had. “I was just wondering… if you would be at the Quidditch game tomorrow?”

 

“Quidditch?” Merlin says confused.

 

Weasley’s head nearly pops off his shoulder; the boy’s noggin shoots up so fast at the mere mention of the sport. “Are you talking about tomorrow’s game?” He asks.

 

Hollow shakes her head as a response. “You didn’t know professor?” She asks now turning back to Merlin.

 

“I’m afraid not. I haven’t memorized all the sport dates yet.” Merlin says.

 

“You should!” Weasley interjected again. “Tomorrow it's huge. Gryffindor vs Slytherin! Harry here is going to be the team's seeker!” Ron clasps Potter’s shoulder in brash pride causing Potter to nearly choke on his fork.

 

“Well, congratulations Potter.” Merlin offers. Harry just shyly nods his head and ducks his glowing red face into the cloak around his shoulders.

 

“Malfoy is Slytherin’s seeker this year as well, but I bet he bought his way in.” Weasley continues absentmindedly. “Say weren’t you a Slytherin professor?”

 

“I was,” Merlin replies. “But that was ages ago, and it's unsportsmanlike to talk ill of the opposing team Mr. Weasley.”

 

“It's not ill if it's true.” The boy fires back.

 

“What the hell his Quidditch?” Arthur asks openly. His face scrunched and eyes staring into Merlin’s head.  

 

"Merlin’s beard!” Weasley exasperates. “Any self-respecting wizard knows what Quidditch is!” Ron mocks Arthur.

 

Potter hushes Weasley quickly and harshly when Merlin arches a very condescending eyebrow at them, and possibly Arthur’s very reddening cheeks. Weasley continues to grin however, no matter how hard Potter is trying to protect whatever image is left of them. The Weasley boy seems to forget that Merlin _is_ a professor and that it’s not entirely wise to speak to him as if he’s a student or friend. Maybe it’s the way Merlin holds himself that invites this sort of attitude, or maybe Ron is just simple-minded.

“I hope to see you there, Professor,” Hollow speaks again, a light pink brushing her cheeks as she draws the attention back on her. Ron looks over at her with a very knowing smirk and gestures to his mouth gagging.

 

“Perhaps,” Merlin says not paying any attention to the children. “I haven’t been to a game in quite a long time though.”

 

Hollow looks disappointed but she does not speak again. Choosing instead to scowl over to the two boys beside her. Merlin takes this cue to leave.

 

A Quidditch game. It really has been ages since Merlin's attended one. He always found an excuse not to go when the other professors would invite him along. Something about the game never settled right with Merlin. Perhaps it reminds him too much of the tourneys in Camelot, he cannot really say, but maybe going this one time will help distract Arthur.

 

“Would you like to go?” Merlin asks Arthur as they seated themselves in the same chairs as that morning.

 

“To what?”

 

“The Quidditch game.”

 

“You didn’t look like you wanted too,” Arthur says prodding his fork at the plate Merlin set aside for him.

 

“Since when did you ever do what I want to do?" Merlin chuckles. “It really is something. We should go.”

 

Arthur doesn't answer him. He doesn't speak to him much at all during their dinner, or the walk back to the tower. Merlin was disrobing himself by the door and ushered Arthur upstairs when Arthur finally opened his mouth again.

 

“Where do you sleep?” He asks looking over the space with disdain.

 

“On the couch?” Merlin says, gesturing to the only piece of furniture large enough to hold anyone lying down.  

 

“On that?” Arthur scrunches his nose and lips up in contempt. Merlin huffs towards him.

 

“Should I sleep on the floor then?” Merlin raises his arms out indignantly.

 

“No.” Arthur coolly replies. “You’ll sleep in your bed.”

 

“Arthur.” Merlin starts. “I don’t…”

 

“With me.” Arthur finishes over Merlin and leaves him alone in the room to retreat back onto the upper floor.

 

It is for the best because Merlin is wearing the most stupefied and scarlet red expression he could possibly have on his face. His cheeks burn, and his mind is racing a million miles a minute along with the thunderous beat of his heart. He even wonders if that was another illusion. Dreams that the deep recesses of his heart often conjure up.

 

Merlin’s embarrassment quickly turns into the sour sting of anxiety. If that wasn’t real, then Arthur probably isn’t real either. Has he been talking to himself this entire time? Why would Arthur come back now anyway? All the wars and diseases, but now? Merlin’s breathing starts to become erratic and his eyes start to water, and he shakes his hands to try to expel the panic that’s setting in.

 

Maybe everything has just been dreamed up; the castle, the people, the past eight years. Any minute now, Merlin feels as though he’ll awaken back in his tower, starved and frail, ruined beyond any human recognition and muttering words that don’t quite sound right in his head or upon his lips. Madness, he’ll be mad again or in this case, had always been. Merlin starts to weep, as there is nothing else he can think of to do.

“Merlin!” Arthur yells from above him.

 

Arthur’s voice breaks the hold Merlin has on himself. He quickly wipes the tears away and tries to calm his breathing as he ascends the steps into the room. Praying to any god that cares, that Arthur will actually be there. Merlin creaks open the door and nearly starts crying again when he sees a shirtless Arthur lounging on the bed, his feet planted firmly to the floor. At first, Arthur is clearly annoyed, but he must have seen Merlin’s red puffy eyes and general dismay prevalent in his body language.

 

“What wrong?” He asks, voice full of concern.

 

“Nothing.” Merlin quickly deflects. “What do you need Sire?”

 

The word sire made Arthur’s body rigid like it was preparing for a harsh blow, and Merlin was preparing for the obvious question that would come next, but it never did. Arthur has decided not to prod him about it, probably out of fear of a breakdown or rejection, which would have quickly come if Merlin is forced to admit anything that had just happened seconds ago.

 

“I want to go to sleep,” Arthur says instead. “And you’re taking forever.”

 

“Arthur I really don’t need to sleep here. I’m fine on the couch.” Merlin says lifting a still shaky hand to his eyes. He feels ridiculous.

 

“ **Get in,”** Arthur demands in a way only a King could. He moves to fold over the cover to the bed and crammed himself to the very edge of it, near the window, to allow Merlin room. He flips over, away from Merlin as if to say the conversation is over.

 

Merlin doesn’t see much need to argue and does as he is told. The man removes his shirt, and tosses it to the side and slowly creeps under the soft black covers. He faces away from Arthur and doesn’t speak a word. It not like they haven’t slept this close before, Merlin reminds himself to will his heart to a steady beat. That’s right, they’ve done this a dozen before. It doesn’t mean anything. It never did.

 

“Let’s go,” Arthur mumbles into the pillow behind him after a long silent moment. “To that Quidditch game.”

 

Merlin hums a reply, hardly able to listen to him at all. The wizard can feel the heat from Arthur’s back and the steady rhythm of the mattress as he breathes in and out, and the sheets scrunching with every little movement Arthur’s makes to get comfortable. The soundtrack of life, of Arthur’s life, and this lullaby manages to drift Merlin off into a deep dreamless sleep.

 

 

 


	9. Together Again as Industrious Friends

Arthur’s sleep is restless. He wakes up many times in the early night and eventually stops trying to fall back asleep altogether. He is turned on his side, facing Merlin who has also flipped over unconsciously in his sleep. Merlin looks more tranquil resting than when he is awake. His eyes aren’t as sunken and tired, and his face is more relaxed than guarded. Half his head is buried into his ridiculously soft pillows, and Arthur can make out the doughy red indents of the material on his cheeks. 

 

He watches him a few moments more. Thinking about all the nights the two have shared a tavern room or simply on the forest floor. Sleeping so close together isn’t foreign to either of them, but this feels a little different. Especially considering the state Merlin came upstairs in. His eyes were red from crying and his entire being just seemed panicked or scared. 

 

 Arthur wanted to ask, but Merlin won't speak to him even when he seems all right, but Arthur knows he’s not. Every smile and laugh just seems like an imitation of one. Merlin’s been his manservant for years, and it annoys him immensely that he thinks he can just play it off like nothing is wrong. Like Arthur is stupid enough not to notice when his friend is anything but happy. 

 

Merlin hasn’t looked happy since Arthur was drug out of the lake. 

 

He has bits and pieces of understanding him, why he seems so sad and distant, but Arthur has the feeling he is only holding onto a few strands of thread in the overall tapestry that makes up Merlin; and Merlin is holding on pretty tightly to the rest of them. 

 

Arthur blows gently onto Merlin’s face, but the man across from him doesn't jostle. Arthur lifts himself slowly from the covers and very carefully removes himself from the bed. Treading lightly downstairs. He tosses on the shirt Merlin lent him and his boots then walk out the door from the tower. He doesn't plan to go far, just enough to make him weary to sleep. The halls are empty and eerily quiet as he aimlessly wonders down the corridors. 

 

Arthur doesn't feel accustomed quite yet. The layout of the castle still makes him feel uncanny, but he’s adapting. He tries not to think about Camelot, though it's hard not too since it feels like only yesterday he’d wake up surrounded in his red silk linens and Merlin would be fiddling away with the dying coals of the fireplace before he leaves with a smile and snarky goodnight. 

 

Maybe that's the problem. Arthur just woke up. He had no way of knowing or feeling how many years have passed. He has no memories of Avalon or an afterlife. It was exactly like slumber. And while it's awful, sudden, and overwhelming; Merlin never got to just wake up.

 

Arthur lets out a very heavy sigh and nearly chokes on it when a hand clasps around his shoulder from out of the shadows. The older woman from that morning emerges from behind him, her face stern and slightly confused when she takes a closer look at Arthur. She isn't wearing that large and frankly ridiculous hat this time, and her dark brown hair is falling out of its messy bun atop her head.  

 

“Oh!” She says removing her hand quickly. “I thought you were a student.” 

 

She clasps her hands together awkwardly and stands a little more in the moonlight. She looks tired, but she holds herself with dignity and grace. 

 

“You are Arthur yes?” She says. “It isn’t safe to wander these halls at night.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says. “I just couldn’t sleep.” Arthur pauses a moment. “You know my name?” 

 

“Emyrs told me about you. Well, a little anyway. I’m Minerva McGonagall, a teacher here.” She responds. “I assume he neglected to tell you no one is permitted to walk around at night?”

 

“No, he didn’t.” 

 

“Of course.” McGonagall hums. “I don’t mean to bother you, but the rules are for everyone’s safety.” 

 

“No, I understand.” Arthur quickly reassures her. “I’ll head back.”

 

As Arthur turns to return back to the tower, he feels McGonagall’s hand wrap around his wrist and stops him. Her grip isn’t tight, but it’s solid. 

 

“Arthur.” She hesitates. “How...how do you know Emyrs?” She asks. 

 

“He used to work for my family.” Arthur answers. 

 

“I just...has he always been so...cryptic?” McGonagall stumbles to say. 

 

“Yes.” Arthur sighs. “Yes, he has.”

 

“I worry about him.” McGonagall comments. “I’ve only known him for a few years, and maybe it isn’t my place too, but he just always looks so...” 

 

“Forlorn?” Arthur interjects. 

 

McGonagall nods her head with wide eyes. She lets go of Arthur’s hand and knots hers together again. Arthur didn’t know what to think of her this morning, but clearly, she means well. He wonders how close she is to Merlin exactly. Merlin says he never took a wife and he doesn’t look as old as she does, physically, but they must have some sort of good relationship, for her to care about him so much.

 

“He thinks he’s good at hiding it.” She continues. “He’ll joke and jest, and he’s eccentric in his own way, but sometimes I'll catch him alone, lost in thought, and he looks so unrecognizable. He doesn't talk to the other staff much, even if I have to go out of my to hold a conversation with him. He doesn't attend events or has any friends that I’ve seen. Every so often he’ll just disappear too and will only pop back up to attend his classes. Then sometimes he exhibits this...this wisdom and perceptiveness that makes him feel even older than I am. As ridiculous as that sounds.” McGonagall laughs embarrassingly as she realizes her rambling. 

 

Arthur doesn't respond. She’s looking at him and smiles when she sees a hint of nod from him. He understands exactly what she means and she knows it. She suddenly pats down her dress and stands a little taller as she rotates back around preparing to leave. 

 

“He didn’t use to be his way.” Arthur suddenly admits to her. She pauses and twists her body back towards him. 

 

“He used to be happy and full of genuine joy.” He pursues. “His eyes were such a bright blue, and I could never get him to shut up, and when he did go quiet I missed his persistent chattering. It's strange to me that he’s not smiling and laughing. I just don’t know what to do.” Arthur achingly admits. “He won’t talk to me.”

 

“He’s hurting,” McGonagall tells him. “It's obvious Emrys is fighting with his own demons.”

 

Arthur already understands that, but he wants to know the brevity of it. He wants to be someone Merlin can rely on, and talk too. He shouldn’t feel like he has to cry alone or _be_ alone. Merlin spent the entire time serving Arthur as a stranger, and now in a world where everything should be on equal ground and open and honest, Merlin still hides from Arthur and it's so much more harrowing than it should be. 

 

“You know.” McGonagall breaks Arthur from his stupor. “This morning, he told me you were the one important thing in his life. If anyone can help Emyrs Arthur it's you.” She says. 

 

Arthur doesn't feel important, but the thought of Merlin saying that to her put a slight blush to his cheeks anyway. She smiles at him, says a soft goodnight then turns and walks away. Leaving Arthur to return back to the tower on his own.  

 

When he makes it back upstairs and, surprisingly unnoticed, back into bed Merlin hadn’t at all moved. Arthur props himself onto his elbow and looks down at Merlin again, as something might have changed in the few minutes he was gone. He is still fast asleep, peacefully breathing in and out. His face isn’t as hidden under the pillow, and his arms are now clutching around the object in a weirdly angled hug. 

 

At least Merlin can sleep peacefully Arthur thinks to himself. It would one more torture if the poor man had to suffer night terrors too. This is a rare opportunity to study Merlin’s face in depth. His cheekbones look sharper laying down, and it's almost comical how far his ear pops out of his bed head. The dark curls wrapping around his head in ways that don’t make any sense. His lips are slightly parted as well and Arthur stares at them for an inordinate amount of time. They are surprisingly full for how thin they appear to be. He can just imagine the way they look smiling. With Merlin’s slight overbite popping out from behind them, his eyes slanting, and the hints of his crow’s feet forming around the corners. 

 

Arthur unthinkingly reaches over to cup Merlin's face and brushes his thumb to the corner of his eyes. He leans in and presses his forehead to Merlin’s and just breaths a moment. 

 

Arthur would never have dreamed of doing this back in Camelot, for hundreds of different reasons, but that doesn't mean he never wanted to or thought about it often. He hid that part of himself, that tiny inkling of emotion that he buried so deep inside his heart and pushed aside, but grief is making him brave. 

 

There was always something about Merlin that just drew Arthur’s eyes towards him constantly. He always played off isolating Merlin away from any of the other royals. Stupidly worried he would choose to serve them instead of himself. He always had Merlin sleep close to him on hunts, was the first man he looked for after battles, and often Arthur loved just watching Merlin. Cleaning armor, organizing his wardrobe, tidying his room, Arthur would observe Merlin thoroughly when he could get away with it. He loved watching his thin a nimble fingers work. He would hum or sing during the more tedious tasks, every so often he'd whistle but he wasn't very good at it. Sometimes Merlin caught him, but he wouldn’t say anything. He’d just smile and ask what Arthur wanted, and God help him how many times he almost said _you_.

 

Arthur could never give voice to it he was the Prince and subsequently the King. Religion, responsibilities, and expectations didn’t allow him to just choose whomever he wanted to be with, regardless of how badly he may have wanted it, and heaven forbid if Merlin ever caught on; but no one ever did. Arthur pretended so hard and for so long, he even deceived himself into believing that whatever feelings he had for his manservant were only platonic and friendly. 

 

Looking and touching Merlin now, Arthur feels a fool for ever thinking they were. 

 

Merlin flinches slightly when Arthur nudges his face again, but he doesn't wake up. Merlin’s deep sleep would concern him if it weren’t so convenient at the moment. He hears a small sigh from Merlin as the man readjusts and pushes against Arthur’s head unknowingly. Arthur sucks in some air and clenches his eyes shut. 

 

“You drive me mad.” He whispers to him. 

 

Arthur then removes himself from Merlin before he wakes up and turns away from him, staring out the small and frosted window of the small room. He counts the blurred stars until his eyes fall heavy and drift off into sleep unknowingly.

 

* * *

 

Arthur wakes up to the smell of cooking food and oven smoke. Merlin wasn’t beside him, so he assumes he’s downstairs. He crawls out of the bed, and wanders out of the room; adjusting the baggy pants Merlin lent him. Merlin is cooking, at least he thinks he is. The pots and pans were moving on their own again. The cups are floating about the room and Merlin is humming while stirring something in a pan on the stove.

 

Arthur sneakily crouches down and sits on the stairs directly behind him. Merlin flicks a finger and a saltshaker levitates over to him and begins shaking into the pan he’s holding onto. Beside Merlin a cup and cream dish crash into each other and tumble onto the floor. It startles the wizard, his shoulders tensing and head snapping to the dishware.

 

Arthur thought that would be the end of it until the cream dish seemed to purposefully crash into the teacup again, with almost vengeful intention.

 

“Hey.” Merlin scolds it. “Be kind.” He gently nudges the creamer away from the teacup with his foot. The teacup then suddenly waddles over the other side of Merlin's leg, using him as a pillar between it and the cream dish.

 

Arthur starts to wonder if the dishes are truly alive, or if it’s just an illusion of life, like the moving paintings. Either way, they all seem to have their specific jobs. Dishware is spreading out on the table and silverware is set up beside the plates. Arthur can smell Merlin bubbling that awful coffee somewhere in the room as well, though its aroma is much more appealing than the actual drink itself.

 

“A pinch of salt and ivory eye. I watch it drown and quickly die.” Merlin hums. “The smoke that rises is all white. Like fallen snow in the dead of night…wait is that how the rhyme goes?” He asks himself.

 

“Are you muttering a spell?” Arthur suddenly asks him, scaring Merlin for the second time that morning.

 

“Good Gods!” Merlin yells at him, pointing the spoon he was using to stir the pot with at Arthur. The wooden stick dripping with a thick brown substance. “How long how you’ve been sitting there? Why are you just sitting there?”

 

“Watching you,” Arthur says. “Doing whatever creepy stuff you’re doing.”

 

“I’m not doing anything creepy.” Merlin huffs. “I’m cooking breakfast.”

 

“So what was that rhythm then?” Arthur asks skeptically.

 

“Just a little poem I recite sometimes. It helps me focus.” Merlin shyly admits, his face reddening. “Anyway, I picked up some food from the kitchens. I thought it would be nice to eat up here.”

 

Arthurs then remember McGonagall saying that Merlin didn’t seem to have any friends or likes talking to the other staff members often.

 

“What’s wrong with eating downstairs?” He can’t help but ask.

 

“Nothing.” Merlin quickly says. “It's just so loud and busy, especially today, with the game and all.”

 

“What is this Quidditch like anyway?” Arthur shifts the conversation. He nearly forgot about the game, considering everything that happened last night.

 

“It’s…difficult to explain. There is a lot too it.” Merlin replies.

 

“It can’t be any more difficult than the rules of a tourney.”

 

“It’s not, technically,” Merlin says. “It actually quite simple, but,”

 

“But?”

 

“I’d rather wait and let you see it. You’ll be quite surprised.” Merlin says smirking. Giving Arthur an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

 

“You’re making me worry,” Arthur responds.

 

“Don’t.” Merlin comforts him. “You’ll love it. It’s very sportsmanlike. A lot of moving, exercising, and bludgeoning! You love bludgeoning.”

 

“Hm.”

 

Arthur goes to sit at the table, while Merlin has his magical little kitchen staff bring him some food. Merlin joins him and pours himself a cup of coffee first, or technically it pours itself. The food surprisingly smells delightful. Merlin was decent at cooking on their hunting trips. The knights never complained, and he used whatever natural herbs he could find in the woods. He was limited, but anyone else’s soups would taste like rotting cabbage and feet. He has improved a lot, which shouldn’t be so shocking, but Arthur is still surprised when the hot meat and gravy wash tastefully over his tongue.

 

“Arthur,” Merlin says while Arthur is chewing his second bite. “I want to apologize about yesterday.”

 

Arthur looks up to Merlin. His eyes are averted to the ground and his fingers are twiddling with the rim of his cup anxiously.

 

“I’ve been thinking it over all morning.” Merlin continues. “I’m trying so hard to run away from the past that I’ve started to run away from you. It's childish and it isn’t fair.”

 

“Don’t worry about what isn’t fair.” Arthur suddenly interjects. Merlin’s eyes go wide and he finally looks at Arthur.

 

“But it isn’t. You can’t help that you came back when you did.” He says sadly. “I just didn’t think about how you must feel. I’ve had centuries to bury the past, but you haven’t. I imagine it must feel daunting. To suddenly wake up here…with me…like this.” He motions to the entire room and himself.

 

“Yeah, well I also can’t imagine what it must have been like to live all these years as you have,” Arthur says pushing his meal away from him to prop his elbows up on the table. “I just want you to tell me what you’re thinking.”

 

“You don’t want to know what I’m thinking,” Merlin says darkly and it makes Arthur’s heart pound. 

 

“Yes, I do.” Arthur sternly replies. “Merlin you spent all those years under my service keeping secrets about yourself. When I was dying I was at least at peace with the thought that I finally got to see the real you. Now I’m here in a world where you should be thriving and more yourself than ever, but you’re just the same. You’re keeping secrets again. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me.”

 

“That’s not it!” Merlin says quickly. Arthur can see the pain clear as day on Merlin’s face. It seems he didn’t realize how similar the situation still is from back in Camelot.

 

“ _Then what is it_?” Arthur asks getting frustrated with him.

 

“It not something I can just talk about!” Merlin is echoing the same frustration.

 

"Apparently you can't talk about anything!" Arthur shouts. 

 

“Do you have any idea what it's like to feel absolutely useless?” Merlin suddenly interjects, shutting Arthur up immediately. 

 

“Merlin,”

 

“No!” Merlin shouts. “I had this entire destiny laid out for me! I was told I’d be something great and good, and we would bring peace and prosperity to Camelot, and I even managed to fuck that up!” Merlin is becoming angrier at each word and he stands up from the table, his hands grasping the edge for leverage. “All of my power was useless! All of my decisions and sacrifices and pain meant nothing!”

 

The tableware begins to violently shake, and Arthur rears his chair back in fear. Some spoons and cups begin floating, the coffee in Merlin’s cup begins lifting from the glass and forming a nearly perfect sphere above him, but Merlin seems unperturbed by them. Even so, Arthur continues looking at Merlin, and his mouth slightly drops when a bright liquid yellow settles over his iris’s causing him to look unearthly. His hair begins to float as well, tiny fragments spreading out and rotating around an invisible force.

 

“I’m a disgrace to the Druid's prophecy!” He laughs darkly. “Freya, Lancelot, Will, Gaius, my mother…and even Morgana and Mordred. They’re all dead because of me. The only thing I ever managed to do was kill my best friend, my King, and deprive Guinevere of a husband!”

 

Merlin suddenly collapses to the ground, with the kitchenware falling with him. The glass shattering around him doesn’t shake the wizard from his stupor, but it matches exactly with the sound of Arthur’s heartbreaking.

 

“I couldn’t even protect a dragon…” Merlin starts sobbing.

 

He didn’t realize how bad this is. How much Merlin is blaming himself for _everything_. Merlin is huddled into a ball, sobbing and mumbling to himself. All of it is incoherent at this point. Arthur quickly gets up from his chair and goes to cradle his friend, with absolutely no idea what to say or do.

 

This isn’t something Merlin’s just going to get over Arthur starts to realize. This is what must have happened last night. The change in him from anger to sorrow was so quick, like a pin drop. These feelings must have been germinating inside him for centuries, and Arthur can’t possibly hope to solve them in a single day, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

 

Even if it takes years of Arthur’s life he has to try set this right because the only thing he can think about when he looks down at Merlin’s caved in body and weeping face, is how something so bright could have possibly gotten so dim.

 

“Nothing is your fault, Merlin,” Arthur says to him softly. He grabs a hold of Merlin’s face and lifts it towards his. His eyes are red and clouded over, but Arthur can see him trying to rein it all back in. “I want you to tell me everything when you’re ready.”

 

“Arthur,”

 

“No,” Arthurs says squeezing Merlin’s face a little to shut him up. “I want you to tell me everything, so I can call you an idiot and make you see why nothing that happened is your fault. You may be the world’s most powerful wizard, but you’re still just a man. You can’t carry all this weight on your shoulders.”

 

It’s destroying you Arthur doesn’t say out loud.

 

“You don’t have to talk to me until you’re ready, but stop thinking you’re alone in all this. I’m right here.” Arthur emphasis. “ _I’m right here_.”

 

Arthur feels tears starting to form at his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. He won’t let Merlin think he made Arthur cry and have something else to hate himself about later.

 

Merlin doesn’t answer him for some time. He ends up just ducking his head into Arthur’s neck and clings onto him for a good long and silent moment. He’s still shaking, but Arthur can hear his crying start to stop. Arthur holds him tighter than he should, afraid for a lot of reasons, but just mainly because he wants to feel Merlin’s weight pressed up against him.

 

The contact helps Merlin calm down. When he finally lifts his head up from Arthur’s clavicle, his face is bright red and clammy from his tears.

 

“Alright.” Merlin gently mumbles. “I’ll try and tell you everything.”

 

“Good,” Arthur says to him smiling and much to his enjoyment Merlin gives a small and tired smile back.

 

“God how embarrassing,” Merlin says wiping his face down.

 

“I thought the room was going to take off for a second back there,” Arthur says lightly.

 

“I wish it would have,” Merlin responds back. “And me with it.”

 

Arthur then suddenly pinches Merlin’s hand. Merlin hisses in response and retreats away from Arthur on the floor looking annoyingly at him, but Arthur just sighs very audibly at him.

 

“Just stop.” Arthur scolds him. “Or I’ll start pinching you every time you self deprecate yourself.”

 

“You going to lose a lot of fingers then,” Merlin mutters.

 

Arthur reaches over and pinches Merlin under his knee and takes great pride in the second hiss Merlin lets out.

 

“Ow, stop it!” Merlin shouts at him. He scrambles to his feet and tries to rush past Arthur. “That isn’t helping!”

 

“You sure?” Arthur asks, laughing. “Let me do it a few more times just to be sure.”

 

Arthur grabs a hold of Merlin’s ankles and wrestles him back down to the floor. He manages to pin Merlin to the floor and reaches up to pinch his nose. Then suddenly and to Arthur’s complete shock; a flock of ravens brushes directly past his face. Their wings flapping against his cheeks as the conspiracy moves towards the front door of the tower. Arthur’s first instinct is to the look for an open window, but before he can turn his head, his eyes catch the raven’s reforming into a standing Merlin. Merlin looks back at him defiantly.

 

“You said you wouldn’t use magic on me!” Arthur says laughing.

 

“I didn’t use magic on you,” Merlin responds brushing the dust off his dark blue shirt. “I used it to get away from you.”

 

“What was that?” Arthur asks standing up as well, genuine curiosity and joy lacing Arthur’s voice. “I’d never seen magic like that.”

 

“An old spell of mine,” Merlin answers him, taken aback. “It’s what eventually lead to the study of transfiguration and portal making. Separated respectfully of course though I find it much more effective together.”

 

“You were more than one animal though,” Arthur says confused. “How is that possible?”

 

“It's hard to explain,” Merlin responds. “I’m both the birds and not the birds. The birds are the portal and aren’t technically real. It’s just the physical form the port key, I, takes. It changes depending on the witch or wizard.”

 

“That’s confusing.”

 

“Magic has always been confusing.” Merlin shrugs.

 

“Why ravens?” Arthur asks.

 

“I don’t know.” Merlin shrugs again.

 

“Do you know anything?” Arthur jests.

 

“Very little I’m afraid.” Merlin smiles.

 

Arthur wants to see more of it. When Merlin looked back at him, he could see the split second his eyes were fading off from yellow to blue; and they enrapture him. Merlin seems to be at his most comfortable when he is using magic. It makes sense; it’s what Merlin is best at so it in turns gives him confidence. It would be no different for Arthur on a battlefield. Arthur also just wants to see the more amazing things Merlin’s capable of. Its only natural the warrior would want to see what makes the old wizard the most powerful of them all.

 

There is also an odd sense of pride at seeing him like this. Merlin was _his_ manservant and friend. He could have chosen to serve or be whatever he wanted to be, but he chose Arthur. Regardless of whether or not Arthur ever realized his talents or devotion back then, it humbles him immensely now. Arthur smiles a little imagining what all the other knight’s reactions would be if they could see Merlin now.

 

“Anyway.” Merlin suddenly says grabbing his coat off the back of a chair. “My classes are starting soon and the Quidditch match is later this afternoon. You can come with me or wait until the game starts. Either way, I bought you new clothes, they’re on the couch. I got the closest things I could find to your older outfits, though these will be ten times more comfortable.”

 

Arthur’s immediate thought is there is no way in hell he’s missing Merlin’s class if it’s anything like the last one. Then he wonders when Merlin found the time to go clothes shopping before now. He wasn’t lying, however. Arthur starts digging through the bags laid out on the furniture. Most of the shirts were red, white, or yellow and made of extremely soft cotton or silk. There are some strange undergarments he’ll need to ask Merlin about later. His pants are mixes of dark browns and tans and look as fitting as Merlin’s black ones do on him.

 

Actually looking more closely at Merlin’s clothing, his fashion was much darker than Arthur remembers. Merlin now wears just black with hints of color here and there, and even then the colors aren’t as bright as the blue and red scarves he used to boast. Not that it’s a bad thing. Merlin’s looks extremely radiant in the dark accents of his clothes, but Arthur can’t help but wonder when the change was implemented.

 

Then again Merlin could have always favored darker colors, but they were rare to come by in those times, especially for a servant. Royels or nobles could only afford died cloth in blues and purples. Speaking of wealth how did Merlin pay for all these?

 

“Well?” Merlin impatiently says.

 

“Just let put something on and I’ll come with you,” Arthur says, grabbing all the bags into his fists and disappearing upstairs to change. Leaving Merlin waiting for him by the front door, smiling amusingly at him.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the day repeated itself in much the same way yesterday did. Merlin had finished his lecture on stars, and it was just as amazing and hard to believe as before. The black hole, as Merlin called it, was terrifying to see and a small child-like part Arthur hopes Merlin is only jesting when he says those things are actually out there beyond the sky.

 

They took their lunch in the hall, and Arthur had the chance to speak to McGonagall again. She was more reserved this time, but still kind. She said she’s trying to find something for Arthur to do while he’s here at the castle. She inquired about his skill set, and Merlin laughed at the face she pulled when he told her sword fighting and battle strategies. She scolded Merlin for laughing, which only made him laugh harder.

 

Then the two walked the castle a bit before the Quidditch game started. Merlin told Arthur a little more about the magical world, its rules and regulations. He told him about a Magical Ministry that is in charge of Britain’s magical society. Apparently, each country has its own government of magic and each one is different. The only interesting thing Arthur really cared about was when Merlin told him about the Order of Merlin.

 

“You have an order?” Arthur has asked.

 

“I created it,” Merlin responded. “It protects the non-magical world from all magic users and vice versa. Back in the day, it wasn’t uncommon for this world to want to wage war against the non-magical folk out of fear of persecution. I opted for peaceful coexistence and created the Order to fulfill that wish. Nowadays it’s more of an award than an order. It’s awarded to a witch or wizard for their great and self-sacrificial deeds.”

 

Arthur wanted to say he was surprised, but he wasn’t; peaceful negotiations and a need to protect others? That’s extremely like Merlin.

 

“Is that why you don’t want people to know your real name? Because of how famous it is?” Arthur asks.

 

“The only people who used my real name at the beginning of all this were the school’s founders centuries ago. It’s not... uncommon for witches and wizards to live longer lives than non-magic folk. Even a couple of centuries aren’t unusual for alchemists, but my specific type of immortality would cause…hysteria in the magical world, for more than one reason. It’s safer for me and the world to think I’m dead.”

 

Arthur didn’t quite understand his line of thinking, but he couldn’t help but disagree. When he nudged Merlin to explain it a little more, Merlin only said things like, he was concerned that ill-intentioned people would try to replicate his immortality or that people would consistently bug him about his past and abilities. He doesn’t want to be looked up too or put into a position of power just because he is old.

 

Arthur got the hint that Merlin just doesn’t like being in charge. He had always been working from the shadows, and it seems after all these years he still prefers to be there. Merlin is annoyingly modest and doesn’t like being put in a spotlight, so he understands why Merlin feels the need to hide, but after hearing all the good he had done for this world Arthur feels like it’s a shame and a waste to let Merlin continue to do so.

 

Now, in the present, Arthur and Merlin are sitting in the teacher’s stands out on the Quidditch field. The land is much larger than what Arthur was expecting, exceptionally large in fact. Even from the top seat, it is hard for Arthur to make out the furthest side of the field from him. He can see three large hoop rings jutting out from the ground. They are much too high for any sort of sport that comes to mind. Arthur isn’t even sure he could throw a ball through the smallest hoop if he tried. The rest of the field is meek and vacant. With only grass and the school banners lining the wall for any sort of decoration.

 

The length of the field reminds Arthur of jousting, but there aren’t any fences to divide the field for the horses and knights, and Arthur can’t find a single jousting stick.

 

“I don’t see how anything is played on this field.” Arthur huffs out.

 

Merlin simply smiles at him and remains silent. It is infuriating and Arthur wants to smack that smirk off his stupid face. He was just about ready to do so when two groups of children immerge from the under the stands and out onto the fields.

 

For some odd reason, their carrying broomsticks and each respective member of the team are dressed in their houses colors. Arthur knows the green is Slytherin. A house and title Merlin had explained the founder had given him long ago. The red is the Gryffindor house and Arthur wonders why any house would be named after such an awful creature.

 

Some members are holding clubs, and Arthur cannot for the life of him imagine what those could possibly be used for. This entire ordeal looks ridiculous and he is damn near ready to accuse Merlin of setting up some sort of prank or hallucination to mess with him.

 

A loud whistle rings out from the field as a much older woman with short silver hair walks to the center of the formations. She is carrying a small box between her arm and hip and flings the thing onto the field when she reaches the circle. The children then begin to mount their brooms, and Arthur has to double take to make sure what he is witnessing is real.

 

“Now I want you all to play a fair and good game!” Arthur barely hears her shout.

 

The woman kicks open the box, and two large round objects fling off into the air and practically disappear into the sky. Something smaller left with them but Arthur only got a glimpse of it, before it too was gone. The woman bends down to pick up a motionless brown ball with caved in sides.

 

Then Arthur is flabbergasted to see the children start to hover off the ground on their brooms. They levitate as high as the hoops behind them, and the woman waits for everyone to settle, before throwing the ball as high as she can, initially starting the game.

 

It takes a while for Arthur to figure out the rules of the game as he watches eyes wide and all but a little giddy. He has to have Merlin explain most of it to him as the team’s war on.

 

“There are three balls in total,” Merlin explains.

 

“I only see two. The brown ball and the two aggressive buggers.” Arthur says.

 

“Yeah, that’s the point. The brown ball is called the Quaffle. Three Chasers fly and try to steal or score by throwing it through one of the three hoops. The buggers are called Bludgers. Their only purpose is to try and knock teammates off of their brooms and it’s the two Beaters job to knock them away when possible. The ball you don’t see is called the Golden Snitch. It’s incredibly fast and hard to see. Seeker’s chase after it the entire game and once it's caught the game is over and that team is awarded one hundred and fifty points. The team with the most points at the end wins.”

 

“Who are the two people around the hoops?” Arthur asks watching one as she kicks away the Quaffle ball.

 

“Keepers. They try and stop the other teams from scoring points by catching or hitting the Quaffle away from the goals.”

 

It is a fascinating sport and very dangerous. Those Bludgers are violent and Arthur imagines falling from as high as they are causes quite a few broken bones yearly. Merlin seems to be enjoying himself too, or maybe he’s excited because Arthur is. Either way, Arthur is having a hard time finding a team to root for. He feels obligated to cheer for Slytherin since Merlin represented them at one point, but Arthur’s seems unnaturally drawn to Gryffindor.

 

One certain player breezes past their stands and Arthur can recognize the boy. Potter, he believes his name was. It wasn’t soon he saw a Bludger giving close chase as well. He watches him closely and becomes increasingly more concerned the longer the ball hurls itself towards him. From what he’s seen so far the Bludgers attack at random and quickly switches player to player.

 

“Is that normal?” Arthur asks Merlin pointing in the direction where Potter was flying.

 

“No.” Merlin says standing up from his seat. It appears he’s been watching Potter as well.  “It’s defiantly not.”

 

Regardless of the threat behind him Potter still surprisingly chases after what Arthur assumes is the Snitch. He randomly reaches out and tries to grab towards something, but then he suddenly loses sight of him as he ducks down under the field’s stands.

 

It takes a few moments before he emerges and continues to flee and simultaneously give chase. Another player crashes painfully onto the field behind him, and Arthur winces at the contact. As he inches closer the Bludger finally strikes Potter in the arm, and Arthur can tell from years of experience the bone had cracked under its force. Merlin has decidedly had enough at this point and grabs a hold of Arthur’s arms to drag him down the pews.

 

As they descend Arthur catches Potter reaching forward with his injured arm and managing to grab the Snitch, but causing him to fling himself from his broom and onto the sand spread out right below the three giant rings.

 

Then suddenly Arthur was right in front of Potter, literally only a few feet away, and his stomach far more queasy than it was before. He nearly pukes in the sand and has to close his eyes to quell the immense amount of vertigo Merlin’s unexpected spell causes him.  

 

Merlin rushes forward bouncing the Bludger back with a spell away from Potter, but none to deterred the ball only flings itself forward again towards the poor boy. Before Merlin can even react a young girl approaches with a giant of a man and that Weasley kid, destroying the Bludger with her own spell.  

 

“Harry, are you okay?” She asks rushing up to him with the others.

 

Soon an entire crowd was gathering around them. The teachers had emerged forward and stood next to Merlin, except one older man in particular who saw it fit to try and help Harry on the ground.

 

“What happened?” McGonagall asks towards Merlin.

 

“The Bludger must have been tampered with.” Merlin answers. “For what reason I don’t…Professor Lockheart that isn’t necessary!”

 

Lockheart is pointing his wand at Potter’s broken arm. He sternly recites a spell and he can see Merlin slapping his face in agitation from his peripherals. When Lockheart reaches over to show Harry his arm again, the boy’s skin folds in like paper and the poor boy’s face his horrified as well as Arthur’s. Arthur has to turn away again because the sight is too much for his already abused stomach.

 

“Well, this sometimes can happen.” Lockheart tries to explain away much to the annoyance of quite a few professors’ and students.

 

“Hagrid,” Merlin calls over to the giant. “Will you please escort Potter to the infirmary and explain to the nurses what happened?”

 

“Of course Professor Emyr’s,” Hagrid says standing straight before bending over to easily pick Potter up into his arms and whisk him away towards the castle. His friends following directly behind them.

 

“Maybe I should accompany them,” Lockheart says standing from the ground and attempting to follow them. Merlin sticks his arm out and stops the man from going any further past him.

 

“I think you’ve done all you could at this point Lockheart.” Merlin sternly says. “Let the nurses take care of it.”

 

The man doesn’t argue and even visibly looks relieved to be able to disappear back amongst the crowd of children.

 

“We should find out who tampered with the Bludger,” Merlin says now turning back to McGonagall. “Even it was just a prank it nearly got a student killed.”

 

“I agree,” McGonagall responded quickly. “I’ll have someone take a look around for any trace of enchantment or possession. This is the last thing we needed.” She sighs.

 

Merlin gives a knowing smile and turns to lead Arthur back towards the castle. He looks suddenly exhausted and incredibly concerned. They walk side by side, their steps in tandem as they pass through the long open fields of the castle grounds. Neither of them say anything until the walls of the building are surrounding them.

 

“Why would someone enchant the ball like that?” Arthur asks.

 

“To hurt Potter.” Merlin easily replies. “That isn’t the only strange thing that’s happened this year and every time Potter and his friends are at the center of it.”

 

“You think those children have something to do with all that,” Arthur asks him baffled.

 

“No.” Merlin quickly reassures him. “I don’t think they’re the perpetrators, but they’re apart of it, even if they don’t realize it. About a month ago, I heard strange unintelligible whispering behind the walls of the school. When I followed it, it led me straight to Potter and his friends. I think he heard it too and he's just not admitting it.”

 

“A voice in the walls. Like a person?” 

 

“I don’t know. Some magical creatures can speak too so it's hard to say. It could literally be anything.” Merlin sighs.

 

“It’s not just a spell or apart of the general weirdness of this place?” Arthur asks jokingly.

 

“No.” Merlin laughs. “I wish it was, but sadly this is a completely different type of weird that makes me worry. Normally I wouldn’t get involved, but now this jeopardizes your safety as well as the schools and students. I sat back and let what happened last year happen. I don’t have that luxury anymore.”

 

“I’ve never known you to sit around while someone else’s life is in danger _,_ ” Arthur replies a little concerned by that admittance.

 

“I know,” Merlin replies not at all humorously. “And I’m not. Not anymore. I’ll protect this school no matter what or who it is. I’ll purge these damn halls if I have too.”

 

“Good.” Arthur smiles at that. “Because you’ll also have me with you.”

 

“Arthur.”

 

“Who else will protect your hide? You’re practically useless without your magic. Have you seen yourself with a sword? It's like a toddler with a knife, it's hard to watch.” Arthur argues, flaring his hands out dramatically. Merlin just laughs and doesn’t even bother arguing about it much to Arthur’s relief.

 

He can see him contemplating, however. The setting sunlight sharpens his features when they pass by the glass windows. Arthur idly wonders what happened last year. McGonagall was incredibly upset by the events as well. A small part of Arthur is happy. Not that he doesn't like the easy days he's had, but he's a man of action. He needs a problem to give him purpose, and Merlin needs a distraction. Arthur won't give him a reason to stand on the wayside anymore. It'll be like old times again Arthur thinks; and hopefully, that will help Merlin start to piece himself back together again.

 

“Very well then.” Merlin smiles that now rare and heart-pounding genuine smile at him. His teeth and grey eyes shining a little brighter with the backlight of the sunset. “ Together then?”

 

“ _Together_.”


End file.
